


Any Given Wednesday

by cathybrokeit12



Series: Chasing Light [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Canon Compliant, Circle Mages, Developing Friendships, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, F/M, First Love, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Idiots in Love, Libraries, Lost Love, Mage Origin, Mages (Dragon Age), Mages and Templars, Mages vs. Templars, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Secret Crush, Slice of Life, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Solona Doesn't Get It, Teen for Dirty Dwarven Joke, Teenage Dorks, Teenagers, Unresolved Tension, canon-typical angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-03-26 05:44:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13851309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathybrokeit12/pseuds/cathybrokeit12
Summary: "Wednesday was the best gift a girl could ask for; four uninterrupted hours of Cullen Stanton Rutherford."After all, that crush had to develop somehow.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweeney is a little more, "Stay off my lawn" here than, "Why are my glasses in the freezer?" For continuity, I blended the Inquisition and Origins categories for magic, and baby mages begin their apprenticeships sometime in their teenage years (around 15/16 for Solona).
> 
> Obviously it all belongs to Bioware, I would love to hear any feedback! Every singe comment or kudos makes my life <3 I love you all!

Solona Amell woke up the 12th of Harvestmere in an excellent mood. The sun had barely crested the horizon, but the sky through the window was clear.

“Perfect,” she whispered, shoving her blankets aside and swinging her feet to the cool stone.

Around her the other girls were starting to stir. Even the most dedicated dreamers could not resist the pull of biology. Solona doubted any one of them could learn to sleep in, even if they were eventually allowed a posting outside the circle.

Humming quietly, she donned her apprentice robes, brushed her hair, and practically skipped out the door.

“Wednesday, is it?” Jowan greeted her from across the hallway through a yawn. They fell into step, curving their way towards the cafeteria.

“You’re completely ridiculous, you know that?” he shook his head with a smile.

Solona beamed back, “The sun is up, the sky is blue, and if I’m guessing right, I get to eat either porridge or eggs with my best friend in our beautiful castle by the sea.”

She stopped herself from taking his arm just in time. The girls could still get away with physical contact, but she and Jowan had to be careful now that they were entering the “age of maturity.” Like they were cats cycling with the moon, _honestly_.

He waggled his eyebrows at her, “And, it’s Wednesday.”

Solona stuck her nose in the air, “So what if it’s Wednesday. I’m seventeen. I’ll be ridiculous if I like!” she flounced, false haughtiness dissolving into giggles.

“Almost 18 now,” he corrected. “You’re catching up with me.”

Solona caught his dour note in his tone and reached for his his hand; templars be damned.

“We’re still young yet,” she said softly and squeezed.

Despite her best efforts, Jowan remained morose. They sat together, her reassurances flowing over their steaming porridge as he sulked. He had always been a worrier.

The first day she’d arrived he’d caught her arm and warned her with increasing urgency of all the rules and dangers of tower life. His extra year’s experience was so significant then, she had been endlessly grateful he was there to guide her.

Glancing at the empty seats surrounding their table, she acknowledged it was still true. She would be lost without him.

You would think being trapped in a tower together would engender friendships, but somehow it had never happened. Cliques had formed early, and the years stacked between them often made those divides insurmountable. Mages who joined later often stuck to themselves. When Eadric joined a few years ago, Solona had hoped to find a companion who shared her interest in literature, but he never warmed.

Of course they were all _friendly_ , but Solona could no more have sat at another table than on the First Enchanter’s lap. The distance seemed to narrow once you passed your harrowing, but that was far off and best not thought of.

She frowned at Jowan. His porridge had congealed. The lumps dripped from his spoon with muffled splats. She reached out and switched their bowls, stirring in a spoonful of honey for good measure.

“There,” she stood. “Eat that, and I will see you after practice in the commons. You know Uldred doesn’t like it when you’re late.”

“You’re lucky you got Sweeney,” he whined.

“We’re lucky neither of us got Leorah,” she returned, lips curving into a cruel smirk.

Jowan snickered, as she knew he would. “Don’t I know it. I swear Flora was _crying_ last week.”

“It’s ‘Finn’ now, don’t forget,” she tossed back with mock sincerity on her way to the door.

As she passed the threshold, she allowed her face to fall and her heart twinged. She hated being mean.

Still, she hurried on. If she was quick enough she could sometimes catch the last half of morning service in the chapel.

A tiny thrill ran through her as she approached. Of the voices echoing through the hall, a quiet baritone was unmistakable.

She squelched a smile and slipped into place at the back pew. Bending her head Solona joined the prayer. She didn’t have to look to know that approximately two yards to her right, a golden head bent over steel gauntlets. The small window illuminated his hair like a halo, his lips moving softly and steadily never breaking their rhythm.

‘ _Maker bless Wednesday_ ,’ Solona thought with a sigh.

Of course, this particular blessing was not limited to Wednesday. She could find him there almost every morning of the week if she was quick enough. She’d first noticed him here in the chapel. No other initiate had come as often as he did, nor did they pray with such focus.

Solona had always loved morning service. The stillness of the morning light felt reverent. She would come here without his occupation, but she had never had to force her feet not to run before.

Taking a breath, she returned her focus to the chant, letting the harmony sweep her away.

Cullen gave her a small nod and a smile as they left the chapel. She allowed herself a moment to savor it as he clanked away. There were only so many times she got to see him without his helm.

Before she got too caught up, she forced herself to march towards the practice rooms. As her shoes tapped down the hall, she sent up a silent thank you. Jowan was right, the Maker had truly blessed the day she’d been chosen as Sweeney’s apprentice.The other girls her age had snickered and scoffed.

“That old bat, I’m surprised he hasn’t been sent to retirement. If I hear one more story about the good old days…” but Solona didn’t care.

What they didn’t know was under his gruff exterior, lay a heart of brass. He was tough and prickly, but he was solid. He could gripe as much as he liked but Solona knew he would never give up on her.

He’d once kept her in the practice room for six hours straight until she got her barrier right.

“Dammit girl! I’m too old for this, do it again,” he’d barked. But he’d guided her through the motions for the 48th time with an encouraging nod and a squeeze to her shoulder. When she’d brought up a barrier that could block his attacks, he’d beamed.

“Beautiful! Now if only we could get your flameblast in order we’d have a real mage on our hands.”

Today she was one of the best apprentices in her age group. Sweeney didn’t let her get away with anything, and he insisted she master at least one spell from each element type. Left to her own devices Solona would have stuck with the Creation spells, but Sweeney was a firm believer that to truly control your magic you had to master all of its forms.

These spells were for self defense or practical purposes only, of course. Kinloch Hold was best known for it’s healing and enhancement. ‘Magic exists to serve man and never rule over him,’ the Chant declared. Any mage who showed interest in more aggressive magic was immediately redirected and found themselves with a more stringent templar guard.

Solona was perfectly at ease with this state of affairs. She didn’t understand how some of the older apprentices seemed so hell bent on channeling destruction. The healing spells were her favorites. They came naturally. The warm glow that swelled up from her chest and spread out through her fingers tingled. It felt like conjuring sunshine. The destructive magics required a heightened energy, anger she just didn’t possess.

This week though, they were working on dispelling magic. So far it had been more challenging than she’d hoped. Ice, lightning, and even fire were physical things. She could at least imagine how they felt, and channel her magic through the fabricated sensation to push it into being.

The spirit spells were always harder. She worked out her barrier spell by picturing it as a thin layer of liquid ice. That was impossible with dispelling. There was simply nothing physical to channel.

Three hours of practice later, Solona wiped sweat from her upper lip and tried not to let her sigh turn into a groan. Across the room, Sweeney frowned. The floor between them was covered in sheets of ice, some melting into puddles. She’d only managed to conjure either frost or blasts of air.

She waited for the ringing, ‘Again!’ she knew was coming and tried not to growl. At this rate they’d be here until sundown. But Sweeney just tapped his foot. She sighed, closed her eyes, and reached for her magic.

“Stop!” Sweeney shouted.

Freezing with her hands halfway in the air she squinted cautiously at him. He was staring, eyes narrowed in thought. “You have research scheduled today, do you not?”

Solona's heart clutched in her chest. “Ye-yes,” she stammered out, wide eyes snapping to his.

Uncrossing his arms he heaved a mighty sigh of his own. “Alright,” he sighed again and flapped his hands in her direction. “You can go. Find Theon’s Magic and Man while you’re up there. You might find his descriptions of the void helpful.”

“Really?” She breathed, eyes growing wider.

Sweeney laughed out loud, his eyes twinkling at what Solona knew must be the utterly dumbfounded look on her face. “Yes, go on now shoo! Before I change my mind!”

Solona fled the room without a word, heart pounding in time with her stride. She didn’t even try to stop the smile that crawled up her face.

She raced down the flights of stairs, forcing herself to walk in front of the templars stationed in the hallways. Her steps only truly slowed when she neared the library. She picked her way through the shelves, keeping watch for any fellow bibliophiles. As usual, the room was empty. She rounded a final corner.

The chess board sat in the middle of one of the aisles, already set up. Solona turned her head, _‘Where …?’_

She started to retrace her steps, but a glint of silver caught her eye. ‘ _Aha!_ ’

Cullen turned from the window as she approached, her steps all but muted by the carpet. Though his helm was on, she heard him smiling. “There you are. I thought perhaps something had changed in the schedule.”

“Oh, no! Nothing like that. I just can’t seem to get this dispel spell down,” She huffed and frowned a little. ‘ _Dispel spell…_ ’ Maker’s mercy today was not her day.

“Keep at it. You always figure it out in the end,” he encouraged

She joined him at the window, and pictured the sunlight highlighting his curls.

“Anything good today?” she asked peering out at the sky, letting the sun’s warmth excuse her heated cheeks.

“Nothing too exciting yet, but there were two flocks headed north earlier. The gulls seem to be pretty active too.”

“Oh, I knew it! I just knew it when I woke up!” she exclaimed, shooting him a grin. “Clear skies after a storm? We’re bound to see something!”

Cullen laughed, armor creaking as he craned around her to resume his observation. “Oh look, the loons are out as well.”

Solona hummed and touched the window pane. The loons were her favorites.

Her heart beat louder at his nearness. Two feet away, nothing less than propriety would expect. She really was ridiculous. The birds dove through the waves out the window, magical in their own right.

A faint jangle of chain mail alerted her to Cullen’s shifting.

“Oh, of course!” she gasped before he spoke. A quick pivot and two long strides brought her to the chess set, where she claimed her waiting chair. Cullen returned to his station against the back wall.

Solona hummed again and frowned at the pieces, carefully tilting her face away from his view. “My turn first?” her voice came out too high.

“If you like,” Cullen chuckled.

Solona wrinkled her nose. ' _Damn._ '  He always knew when she was lying.

“Patronizer,” she laughed. “Oh what’s the use, you’ll just win anyway.”

“In your defense, you are only just learning,” he appeased, eternally warm and gracious.

“Yes, yes. You’re quite right.” she sighed and switched to bargaining, playing up her wheedling tone. “Say, shouldn’t you be letting me win every so often? You know to keep up morale?”

“That would be patronizing,” Cullen returned. She heard his grin and a spark of triumph surged up her spine.

“Insufferable!” Solona shook her head and beamed back over her shoulder. She prayed her hair hid enough of her blush. Looking back down, she floated her fingers over the pieces.

“Alright then,” she rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck, too happy to even pretend to be put out. “Have it your way. What will it be?”

“Pawn to B2.” Cullen answered with a startling lack of hesitation.

Solona’s eyes narrowed. He’d been planning.

Still.

‘ _Wednesday,_ ’ she hummed happily, moving the piece. She bit her lips to hide the smile he couldn’t see.

The looming specter of her inevitable and crushing defeat was nothing in the face of the day’s beauty. Wednesday was the best gift a girl could ask for; four uninterrupted hours of Cullen Stanton Rutherford.

It had started long ago, the first year she’d donned her apprentice robes. She had always adored the library. Freed by her new apprentice status, she requested research hours whenever the opportunity arose. Solona loved this floor in particular because it was invariably deserted. She could read or stare out the window to her heart’s content with none to bother her. Privacy was a hot commodity in the circle.

Unfortunately, she was not the only mage to think so. She’d walked in on Karl and Anders one summer afternoon and it had all gone to hell. She hadn’t meant to out them, but she’d been so startled she’d knocked into a standing candelabra. Faster than she could have believed, the flames spread to the adjacent shelf and began a steady climb towards the ceiling. The templars posted in the hall had sensed the fire in seconds and come running. The rest was history.

Karl was transferred within the week and Anders made his first escape attempt the following evening. No one knew where he was now. The rumors varied. Some claimed he was trapped in solitary, others insisted he’d dodged the templars for good.

Wherever he was, Solona knew Anders didn’t blame her, but it neither stopped her heart’s rending, nor dulled the stark image burned into her memory; Karl’s face, slack and pale next to Anders, his eyes opened wide in furious defiance of their inexorable doom.

Keili and Evelina had refused to speak to her for weeks. Instead they hissed, “Snitch!” and nastier words whenever her back was turned. She’d returned to the library, desperate for refuge, but the scorch mark on the shelf brought everything crashing forward. She’d huddled against the wall and sobbed into her knees.

Not two minutes later she was interrupted.

“Hey now,” a soft voice had called.

She lifted her head to see a templar before her, extending his hand. She took it and looked around, bewilderment breaking through despair as he pulled her to her feet.

“I didn’t think anyone could hear,” she said thickly and swallowed a sob.

“It’s a new assignment actually,” the templar replied. “I guess the room was being used for, um... inappropriate, ah, purposes...”

Solona stared, distant bubbles of panic trickling up through the haze of grief. ‘ _Does he know..._ ’

A loud clang aborted both her thought and the templar’s gesture. It appeared that the edge of his gauntlet had struck his helm.

He froze, one arm half lifted bizarrely in the air and muttered a stream of undecipherable phrases under his breath before lowering his hand; this time carefully avoiding the edges of his his pauldron and chest piece.

“Forgive me,” he spoke more clearly as he cleared his throat and straightened, “Are you alright?”

Solona stood mute. A voice she would swear she only knew from her dreams was speaking to her. It was too much to process.

The Templar’s helm dipped, and his arm twitched upwards before being ruthlessly jerked down, metal squeaking as his fist clenched. Solona had never imagined a suit of armor could look so… bashful.

“Ah, no. Well. That’s not what I… of course you aren’t,” the knight continued, hands flexing convulsively at his sides. “Forgive me. Do you want me to call someone? A healer maybe? Perhaps Mother Elise?”

Solona jumped back to life.

“It’s you!” She exclaimed, near shouting despite her lingering congestion. “It’s you! You’re the boy from the Chantry. I-”

She snapped her mouth shut in horror. What could she have possibly said? I love you? I’ve been watching you for months? You sing to me in my dreams? I think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen? ‘ _Ridiculous._ ’

“Oh,” he drew back, clearly not expecting her response. “Yes, I suppose I am.” He paused again, “Although really, aren’t we all?”

“What?” Solona asked, distracted by the resurgence of her running nose.

“From the Chantry,” the boy repeated. He reached towards his neck again, but seemed to remember his lesson. “The templars, the sisters, the- well I guess not all the mages. But you certainly are.”

Finding no other option, Solona blew loudly into her sleeve. Any shreds of dignity had already been demolished, there was no point in keeping pretense.

“I suppose if you think about it,” her voice came out groggy. She paused and cleared her throat.

Wiping her swollen nose again, she sniffed and continued, “you could say everyone is from the Chantry, since the Maker created all of us?”

“Yes. Both wise and true.” His quiet words rang with earnest solemnity.

Solona was struck dumb. Never in her life had she thought a templar might actually listen to her. All thoughts of tears and snot were forgotten. She stared.

The templar helm was designed to obscure as much as it was to protect. Objectively, his helmet was doing its job. There was a faint glimmer that might have been eyes, and a hint of pale skin for a nose.

Still, Solona experienced something akin to double vision. Her eyes did not lie, but she pictured the boy beneath so clearly; golden fields of curls over eyes brown and warm as the summer sun baked earth. His smile turned up a touch higher on one side, a feature that would belie a boyish heart no matter the age.

‘ _He is the sun,_ ’ Solona thought stupidly. ‘ _They might as well try to cage summer, light cannot be held by metal._ ’

She glowed in return. ‘ _Light calls to light,_ ’ she thought as her lips curved involuntarily in response, cheeks still tight with dried salt.

Time passed unchecked. He called her back to reality when he began glancing around, rocking a little on his heels.

“I should be getting back to my post.” he said quietly. Apologetically, she realized with hesitant surprise. She flapped her hands in front of her, as if trying to physically wave away her embarrassment.

Caught staring like a-, and while he was on duty! He was being kind, and off she went mooning! And at a Templar! How many times had Greagoir warned, “Templars must not be distracted from their sacred duty.”

‘ _Maker, I am a fool._ ’

She cut off her own train of thought, spilling reassurances, and apologies. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to disturb! But don’t worry, you won’t get in trouble! It’s the books, they muffle sound like you wouldn’t believe. That’s probably why they were-”

She froze and looked up sharply, a jolt of alarm cutting through any other thoughts.

“I wasn’t one of them,” she burst out, frowning. “The…” Solona’s words died in a heated blush. Her eyes dropped to the sword of mercy on his breastplate.

There was no good way to end that sentence. You couldn’t say those things to a templar, it shouldn’t have been brought up at all. This was exactly the opposite of what you were supposed to do, and now she looked like she was lying to get out of trouble.

She squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed against her rising panic.

‘ _Sweet Maker, could this get any worse?_ ’ Maybe if she threw herself on her knees and swore to Andraste, “I wasn’t trying to! I would never ever try to corrupt anyone! I’ll never look at a templar again!”

Before she could find the words, the templar cleared his throat and spoke in a rush, “Yes, yes, I know!” Perhaps he too wanted to move past it.

But he kept talking. “I was required to read the reports earlier. They were cited in your file.”

Solona's eyes snapped open, all else forgotten. “My what?”

The templar actually stepped back. Solona realized she’d spoken far more sharply than she’d intended when she saw his gauntlet resting on the pommel of his sword.

“Sorry, I just-” she breathed out slowly and squeezed her eyes shut again, fighting the urge to burst into tears. “ Andraste preserve me, ” she whispered.

“No, please. It’s quite alright. I-” he cleared his throat, but seemed to change his mind.

Once again Solona was surprised to hear apology in the boy’s, no, the _Templar’s_ , the **_Holy Knight of Andraste’s_** , tone. She took a steadying breath, trying to shake out the tension that had ratcheted up her back, and tried again.

“It’s just… Why do you have my file?” She spoke carefully, trying to control a tremor, but she couldn’t shake her frown. She kept her eyes firmly on the pommel. ‘ _Am I in trouble?_ ’

Following her gaze, the Templar moved quickly, lifting his hands in front of him as if to calm a startled cat.

“Maker's mercy, no! No-nothing like that! Forgive me, I really, I-I didn’t mean... Maker’s breath.” He sighed and palmed his helm as if to hide his face, the picture of abashed concession.

Solona tilted her head, lips quirking as a ray of fond amusement broke through her worry. There was the boy beneath the armor. He was trying so hard.

“It’s really nothing.” He continued, “Nothing bad anyway. It’s just that you request research so often. We receive the files of any mage who will become one of our regular charges. It’s all very usual, nothing to worry about I promise.” He flexed his hands at his sides again. A nervous tick?

She considered his words.

It did make a certain kind of sense. The templars were there to watch for any abnormal behavior. If they were to be effective, they’d have to know what the normal behavior was.

Still, it was unsettling. She hadn’t realized just how carefully the templars watched them, nor how clinically. The tower had never been anything but a place of wonder. There was no hiding here. They were free to practice their magic and were encouraged to learn and grow. As long as you followed the rules there was no need to worry. This was the first time Solona had ever felt frightened of the guards of her home.

It was the first time she thought, from the templar’s perspective, the mages looked a lot like rats in a cage.

The templar shifted in front of her. He seemed to be waiting for her response. Solona’s gaze softened. It was not only impossible to see him as just a templar, it was wrong. He was a boy trying his best to be a knight.

She’d never spoken to one of them like this before. The templars almost never spoke at all in fact. Knight-Commander Greagoir sometimes gave speeches, and the knights spoke to each other in the cafeteria, but she couldn’t recall a single time one had addressed her directly.

The reverse was probably true as well. It was entirely possible she was the first mage this man had truly spoken to. It was no wonder they were falling over themselves, unable keep their feet out of their mouths. How could you talk to a person who wasn’t supposed to be a person? If she was going to try to salvage any semblance of normalcy from this situation, she’d have to start learning to think of him as both.

She stuck her hand out abruptly. “Apprentice Solona,” she offered.

He took it slowly. The steel was cool and solid beneath her fingers. She didn’t know if he could feel it, but she gave it a firm shake anyway.

“Cullen Rutherford,” he returned, sounding relieved.

Solona laughed a little and inclined her head. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he bowed a little as he released her hand. Bringing his fist to his chest in a final salute, he returned to his spot against the wall.

Solona fled the scene, grabbing a book to bury the blushing grin that insisted on crawling across her face in it’s pages. Templar or not, he knew her name.

After that day she’d seen him everywhere. Tuesdays he was posted outside of her practice room, Mondays and Fridays they had the same dinner schedule where he joked with the other initiates at their table.

He was popular, quick to smile and quicker to laugh. His voice and his hair made him unmistakable in his leisure hours, but even on duty she knew which suit of armor was his.

Cullen was… physical. She didn’t know another way to describe it. Even trying to stand still, he was a light you couldn’t shut off. He seeped through the cracks of his steel plates, calling out to anyone who paid attention.

Two Wednesdays later, he managed to surprise her again, despite her new awareness. She’d been deeply intent on reaching a book from a high shelf. The carpet of the library absorbed the telltale clank of his boots, so it wasn’t until a shadow fell across her and a silver hand slid the tome into her waiting grasp that she sensed him.

He was _enormous_.

“There,” he was smiling. “Next time just ask. It’s no trouble. After all, I’ve nothing else to do. You’re the only one who comes here during lunch.”

“Oh! I um... Thank you.” Solona clutched the book and stared straight ahead at his engraved breastplate, fighting to keep her breathing even. She sent a prayer of gratitude to Andraste that her hair was down that day, providing at least a flimsy curtain to shelter behind.

“Of course,” he nodded and returned to his post.

Having secured her objective, Solona curled into her favorite chair to read. As she turned the pages, Cullen continued shifting occasionally behind her. Over an hour later he let out a barely audible snort. She slammed the book closed.

He straightened immediately. “Forgive me.”

“What?” she asked, glancing around and subtly moving to smooth her hair.

Through his helm, Cullen's voice came out strained. “It’s... well it’s the book,” he shifted and coughed.

Completely taken aback, Solona glanced between him and the volume in her hands. One of the tales of King Calenhad. He’d been reading it?

“You must have good eyesight.” she said finally.

Cullen laughed loud. “Yes well, my family kept sheep so I suppose I have practice. That one is actually a favorite of mine.”

An image flashed fully formed in her mind. Cullen, an adolescent, leant against a stone fence slowly flipping the pages of a story of the knights of legend. He looked up now and again to carefully monitor his woolen charges. It fit so perfectly. A surge of warmth towards him expanded in her chest as she pictured it. She turned back to the book to avoid his gaze.

“What was so funny?” she asked.

Cullen seemed to freeze for several seconds before attempting to answer.

“I, well I suppose, just, ah... the bit with the dwarf.” His voice sounded strangled as he trailed off into semi intelligible muttering. Straining to hear, she barely caught the words, “Maker’s breath," and "Inappropriate.”

' _Inappropriate?_ ' This was not her first reading of the Tale of Calenhad. Was it possible she’d missed something?  She flipped the pages to re-examined the passage in question.

       _The dwarf grinned and said, “What do the Carta have in common with an Orlesian silk purse? Calenhad rolled his eyes, but the dwarf continued. " One slip of the tongue and you’re in deep shit!” he cackled._

It was a joke about Orlesian politics, and not a particularly funny one. In fact, Solona was fairly sure the dwarf was intentionally telling bad jokes to annoy Calenhad. She turned back to Cullen, brow furrowed deeply in confusion. She shook her head and raised the book to him in wordless question.

“Maker’s breath!” he huffed out, stiff and irritated. “I am _not_ explaining this to you! Continue as you were. _Please_.”

' _I_ _shouldn’t be surprised,_ ' she rolled her eyes and turned around. ' _Ferelden men never miss a chance to mock Orlais._ '

She tried to return to the story, but couldn’t focus. Cullen's subtle movements kept drawing her attention. When he tried to smother another yawn with a cough, she gave up and stood. Walking towards the wall, she pulled out a chair at the table closest to his post.

“There, now at least we can share,” she said, angling her seat so he could see the page over her shoulder.

Eight Wednesdays after that, she’d caught him staring at a chessboard, forgotten in the shadowed corner of some shelves.

“Do you play?” she’d asked, helpless to resist the temptation of learning more.

“I used to. My father taught my siblings and I. Mia was always the best. Of course, she had a few years on us. That didn’t stop her from being insufferably smug whenever she won,” he chuckled affectionately.

Solona drifted towards the board, “Do you miss them?”

“Sometimes,” his candor surprised her. “But they’re not far. I’m closer to them here than I was at the monastery. In fact, when the fog lifts you can see the nearest docs to our village.”

“You’ll have to show me next time.” Solona smiled, picturing a young Cullen, maybe eight years old, glaring over a chessboard at his sister. Another one of his puzzle pieces clicked into place.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Hmm?” she responded, caught halfway in her daydream.

“You have siblings right? Do you miss them?”

“Oh,” she waved her hand vaguely, and smiled “No. My magic came early. I was only six, so I really don’t remember too much. I know I was the oldest. Either way, my family was noble, so they didn’t keep in contact.”

“Oh.” Cullen’s voice dropped in concern. He leaned towards her slightly. In her mind’s eye he was frowning a little, worried he’d hurt her.

Solona’s smile stretched. “It was a long time ago, don’t worry about it. The tower is my home, it has been since I arrived. I’m happy here.”

“Yes,” he replied with quiet gravity. “I suppose that's as it should be.”

After a long pause he continued, “I was thirteen when I left Honnleath. I’d begged and begged for years, and when they finally let me go, I was surprised to find that I still felt homesick. I was glad to be stationed close enough to visit.”

Solona hummed acknowledgement. She turned back to the board. “Do you want to play?”

“I’m afraid I can’t leave my post.” he sighed, but looked longingly at the table.

“Quite,” Solona hummed again.

Struck with an idea, she reached out to grab a corner of the board. Within seconds she recognized her miscalculation. The mass of marble could not be moved gracefully alone. She called out, “Here, come help me move this.”

Together they wrestled the table to the middle of a gap between the shelves, well within sight of Cullen’s post.

“There!” she panted in sweaty triumph, “Now you can tell me where you want to move your pieces.”

“Do you play often?” he asked, only slightly winded, as he returned to the wall.

“Actually, never,” she laughed, catching her breath as she brought out the pieces to set up the game. “Enchanter Sweeney keeps suggesting it though. He says it will help with my focus.”

“He’s too hard on you.” There was a frown in Cullen's voice.

He’d made a few similar comments after his first posting outside the training room. She’d cast lightning too near a pool of water left over from their earlier practice with frost spells, and Sweeney had taken it upon himself to make _absolutely certain_ she would _never_ make that mistake again.

“Oh, no.” Solona laughed again, shooing away his concern, “That’s just his way.”

Turning to the board she drew her brows together. “Hold a moment, I may need more help than I thought. I know the pawns go in the front and the kings go in the back, but what are all these other pieces?”

Cullen had laughed at that, but turned out to be a patient teacher. Time passed. Wednesdays flew by, and the weeks turned into months. Before she knew it, she'd spent just over two years treasuring their precious hours in the research library.

They didn’t talk every time. Often she simply read, sharing the book if he seemed interested. Sometimes they just watched the skies for interesting wildlife.

Of course, if someone else was in the library they didn’t speak at all. Solona was no fool. She knew whatever this was, it was unusual. Not even Jowan knew the extent of it, and he knew everything.

Still, despite all the downsides and pitfalls that came with the strange juxtaposition of their stations, she believed she had truly found a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be a 7 part story  
> 1) Any Given Wednesday: Pre-Canon & Mage Origin  
> 2) Mage, Interrupted: Origins  
> 3) Send More Wardens: Awakening  
> 4) Kirkwall Without a Map: Post-DA II  
> 5) A Fereldan Abroad: Asunder  
> 6) Ask the Dust: Inquisition  
> 7) Nevertheless, She Persisted: Post-Inquisition DLC
> 
> I wanted to look more closely at some of the emotional stuff going on for the mage characters, especially in Origins. What kind of relationships might form after living in a very enclosed space through the years? How did the relationships we see come to be? How would Solona's awareness of the mage templar conflict develop? How might Cullen factor into that?
> 
> I also love the idea of pre-trauma Cullen. His brief dialogue in Origins is so interesting! Sure, he's awkward and flustered, but he's also very open and friendly. The familiarity seems to exist on both ends, as Solona calls him by just his first name, no title . Other background characters refer to him as "Cullen" as well, but it's a bit different to say it to someone's face. (ie 'Bingley' vs 'Mr. Bingley' in Pride & Prejudice).
> 
> Regardless, we know from canon that this level of familiarity is pretty strange between mages and templars, especially in a place where mage templar relations are strictly regulated and monitored. Thus, the research library! I'm going to try to stick as close to canon as possible, but in the end some sacrifices must be made for the sake of plot.
> 
> Points if you figured out what an "orlesian silk purse" is!
> 
> I've never posted anything I've written before, but I see all the lovely things you all post so I'm excited to join the productive part of the fandom. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona consults a friend on her magical struggles, practices with Sweeney, and has a revealing conversation with Cullen in the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore literally any input! thanks for reading <3

Two weeks later Solona still hadn’t properly cast a single dispelling enchantment. Slamming her forehead to the page in front of her, she groaned aloud. 

“ _ Magic and Man _ not helping?” Cullen inquired from behind her.

“Not in the slightest,” Solona ground out through her teeth. 

She should be grateful she was allowed to use her research hours at all. Usually when she couldn’t get a spell down, Enchanter Sweeney kept her practicing until she could; no matter the hour, no matter the cost. 

This time he was mixing up the relentless drills with extra theory. He’d added several books to her ‘suggested’ reading. She was on her third review of  _ Magic and Man _ , hoping desperately for a breakthrough, but so far had come up blank. She wasn’t sure why his strategy had changed. All she knew was it wasn’t working.

Heavy footsteps crossed the carpet behind her, and an unseen hand slid the book from beneath her head. Refusing to move, Solona buried her face in her arms. 

To her right, Cullen flipped the pages slowly. “You know, we read this in our training at the monastery,” he commented.

“Did it help?” Solona asked, petulant. 

Cullen chuckled and conceded, “Perhaps not as much as it should have. Can I ask what method you’ve been using to channel?” 

“You’ve heard me at practice,” Solona replied, lifting her head to speak. “You know I use visualization. It’s the only one I’ve found that works consistently.”

He nodded and continued skimming the pages. 

“Except for now I suppose,” she grumbled, returning her cheek to her forearm. 

Through his helm, Solona caught a twinkle of brown as he shook his head. Affectionately, she hoped.

He closed the book and placed it on the table. “Perhaps a break is in order? I saved some seeds from last night’s salad. We can try to convince the swallows to stay a little longer?” 

Solona stretched, feeling her bones creak. 

“You’re probably right, as usual,” she stood.

Cullen trudged to the window and cracked it open, carefully sprinkling the bundle of seeds stored in his sash. Solona seized the opportunity to take him in, unobserved.  _ ‘You can take the boy off the farm…’ _ she smiled. 

Joining him, she allowed herself to enjoy the swoop of the gulls over the water. Lake Calenhad was so large, she often imagined it as an endless sparkling sea. 

But her mind would not rest. As the birds fell and soared through the sky she bemoaned, “Even air is  _ something. _ How can we possibly be expected to create nothing?  _ Nothing _ is nothing, it doesn’t exist!” 

She expected Cullen to laugh at her peevishness, but instead he tilted his head. This was her cue to wait for some penetrating insight. His silences were always assiduous. 

“Have you ever experienced it?” he asked finally. 

The question was so simple she startled into a laugh. “No, never,” she admitted. “I suppose I should.” 

“It certainly might help,” he nodded. “I know templar and mage abilities differ greatly, but in this there are at least some similarities.”

Solona bounced up on her toes, buoyant with optimism. “Yes, of course!” She gasped, “How could I have not seen it earlier? And here I was, wasting an expert resource. How does it feel when you do it?” 

“I uh…” Cullen clenched his fists and looked up at the ceiling. Solona leaned forward, intent on his answer. The anticipation of a long sought after solution was exhilarating. 

He cleared his throat. “Well, I suppose it’s…” he held his hands straight out in front of him and mimed pushing something towards the floor. “It’s a feeling of... suppression? Does that make sense? You push down until there’s no more room for movement. Everything is completely still.”

Solona nodded eagerly, “And do you picture anything as you’re doing it?” 

Cullen coughed twice, took a deep breath, and began flexing his hands again. Perhaps this was an uncomfortable subject for him.

_ ‘Are there rules about discussing templar abilities to outsiders? But Cullen doesn’t break the rules... Perhaps he feels awkward discussing abilities meant to target mages with a mage?’  _

She smiled, _ ‘He’s so kind, Maker pray he never loses that. The world would be far lesser for it.’ _

“Please don’t hold back on my account,” she broke in, attempting to convey as much sincerity as was humanly possible. “I really  _ do  _ want to hear. Anything you have to say might help me when I’m trying to visualize it on my own.”

He gazed at the ceiling and whispered a barely audible, “Andraste preserve me.” 

Shaking his head, he squared his shoulders and pressed on with firm, clinical delivery. “When I use dispelling abilities I picture…” He trailed off and glanced around the room. “I suppose I picture... stone?” 

Solona frowned. “Stone?” she echoed.

“Yes, I don’t know how else to...” He paused, then elaborated, “When we take lyrium, there’s a moment of... exquisite stillness. It sort of, pulses? Or I don’t know, hums. There’s an all encompassing feeling of quiet, silent and still, like stone.”

“ _ Fascinating _ ,” she breathed, crossing her arms and leaning into the wall. Cullen reached for the back of his neck, a sure sign he was feeling bashful. 

She jumped in to assure him with her own experience. “You know, when mages take lyrium I think it’s quite different. I suppose everyone might have a unique experience, but for myself I find that it’s more of a feeling of fullness? It’s like the magic swells up, like a spring.” She tilted her head against the stone in thought.

“It’s interesting what you said though, about the humming. I never thought too much about it but there’s definitely a sensation of… vibration? It’s like the magic itself has been energized...” she trailed off, considering the branching paths of speculation. “I wonder if anyone has done research on  _ why _ lyrium affects us so differently? It’s strange that one substance can fuel both of our abilities, but create such different results.” 

Cullen chuckled, warm and low. She pictured a smile when he inclined his helmet towards her and said, “If anyone could solve it, it would be you.”

She wrinkled her nose up at him to hide her grin, and raised her eyebrows. “This would be the place to do it too. Where else could you find a whole towerful of captive subjects?” 

He laughed outright, “You’ll be our resident mad scientist. I guess every tower needs at least one.”

“You know we have golumns here too,” Solona shot him a wicked grin. As she pushed off the stone and headed into the shelves she called back, “Hopefully this time no one will get squashed.” Marching forward, she fought the pull to stay and make him laugh again. She had research to do.

Over dinner Solona gushed about her findings to Jowan. “It’s crazy. We’ve used this stuff for years, and no one I can find has ever questioned where it comes from or  _ why _ it might affect us the way it does. It’s especially interesting because lyrium exists naturally in the earth. Its different than your average herbs or minerals that might have healing or other chemical properties. Lyrium is  _ magic _ , from the  _ earth _ !

“So?” Jowan questioned around a mouthful of stew. 

“ _ So _ it’s  _ natural magic _ ! Not in the fade!” Solona felt like she was on lyrium, buzzing at a heightened frequency. “Think of the implications, Jowan! Magic doesn’t exist to serve man, it  _ is _ man, at least if these theories play out.” 

Jowan glanced significantly at the red and white robed initiates two tables away, “You better not let the Chantry folk hear you saying that.” 

“Well, it actually  _ does _ align with the Chantry’s teaching that, ‘the Fade is a realm of primeval matter from which the Maker formed the physical world and all living beings’...” Solona sighed and dug into her rapidly cooling stew. “It probably wouldn’t amount to anything anyway. The dwarves have they lyrium trade locked up tighter than-”

She glanced up just as Jowan shot a wink at someone behind her. The movement was quick, a trick of the light? As she turned to check, Jowan asked loudly, “How’d you get on this subject anyway?” 

Solona’s face flushed in an instant. ‘ _ Stupid,’ _ she chided. If only her body wouldn’t betray her so easily! 

Jowan grinned like a cat who’d cornered his prey. “Ahhh, more adventures in the research library then? You know a little birdie told me one of the templars stationed in there just  _ might _ have a thing for you.” 

Scowling fiercely she hissed, “ _ Be quiet _ !” as she ducked her head and glanced furtively at the templar’s side of the cafeteria and the guards stationed in the corners. 

“Oh come on, you can’t seriously think you’ve been subtle.” He shook his head pityingly, “The whole tower knows. I bet Irving even knows.” 

“Knows what?” she snapped, “That I like to read? I hardly think that’s a crime.”

Jowan’s grin grew wider, and Solona kicked herself again. Thank the Maker she hadn’t been born a bard, she’d out herself within the hour.

“Oooh, touchy,” Jowan crowed. “Tell me, has he worked up the nerve to arrange a secret rendez-vous? I heard he-”

She cut him off with a groan, burying her face in her hands. Peeking out between her fingers she pleaded, “Don’t be cruel, Jowan.  _ Please. _ It’s one thing to make fun of me, it’s another to make up lies that could land someone in serious trouble.” 

He laughed, “Trouble? Come on. As if the templars would ever target one of their own, especially someone as publicly devout as Cullen.” 

“ _ Shhhhh, _ ” she hissed again, grateful for the empty seats surrounding their table. She sunk farther into her seat.

Jowan’s smile softened. “I’m sorry, I’ll stop.” He reached out and squeezed her arm, “He really does like you though. I swear he dropped a glass watching you leave the cafeteria last week.” 

Solona rolled her eyes, “Come on, Cullen is the  _ last _ person anyone would ever accuse of being inappropriate. It’s a physical impossibility.”

His smirk came back in full force, but he was speaking before she could screen her words for double meanings. 

“ _ Physical impossibility _ , huh? Is that the issue? Perhaps you’re right, I guess the poor lad just doesn’t have it in him.” 

She raised her brows and lifted her chin as she began to collect her dishes. “I’m not sure exactly what you think you’re implying,” she spoke cooly, “But whatever it is, I won’t hear it, and I won’t respond to it.” 

“Come on Solona, don’t be like that,” Jowan whined. “You’re no fun anymore.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. Callous and inconsiderate or not, he was her best friend, and she had been ignoring him. “I know, I know. I’m sorry,” she sighed. “It’s this damn dispel business. I swear, once I figure it out you’ll have me all to yourself again.”

“But I’m bored!” he wailed.

“It’s not my fault Uldred can’t be arsed,” Solona bit back.

Jowan glowered and crossed his arms. She grimaced in apology; that was definitely too close to home. 

He shrugged and released his defensive stance, “Ugh I know. It’s no wonder they think I haven’t been making enough progress. He’s been ‘packing’ for his trip south for the past 3 weeks.” 

“You could always join me at practice you know,” she offered, standing to clear her place. 

“And risk losing my chance at true freedom? No way!” Jowan laughed.

“Ah, the liberty of abandonment,” she giggled. “The one opportunity I’ll never have. Sweeney’s far too old to be sent to the front lines. Tell me, what does it feel like to have no looming expectations over your head?”

Jowan leant back in his chair and grinned. “It feels good! But not good enough to make up for my best friend deserting me in my time of need,” he closed, pouting. 

Solona flicked away an invisible tear as she turned to go. “I’ll see you in the commons tonight if I can actually get it right this time.”

“Aren’t old men supposed to go to sleep early?” Jowan called after her, but she was too far to reply without shouting. She waved and turned down the corridor. 

‘ _ At last! _ ’ she thought, striding with purpose _. ‘Theories don’t test themselves. If one of these ideas doesn’t work, I’ll eat my shoe!’ _

“Enchanter Swee- ah, First Enchanter. I’m sorry I didn’t see you,” Solona tottered as she abruptly braked at the door to the practice room.  

Sweeney and Irving turned from their discussion.  “Ah, Apprentice, eager to start your lesson I see? You do the circle proud,” Irving croaked. The First Enchanter was not a congenial man, but he was often sympathetic to the struggles of the apprentices.  

Solona nodded, “Thank you First Enchanter, I’m always eager to learn.” She looked to Sweeney silently pleading, ‘ _ Come on… _ ’

He crinkled his eyes over Irving’s shoulder. “Yes, no one could say Solona lacks determination, even if I do have to drag her to it from time to time.” 

He moved towards the door, drawing Irving with him “If you would excuse us Irving, it seems we must finish our conversation another time. First breakfast tomorrow? Our apprentices have little time to waste.” 

“Quite right,” Irving stroked his beard. “Tomorrow then. These matters should not be delayed, as you well know Enchanter.” Sweeney grunted agreement. 

“Apprentice,” the First Enchanter nodded and shuffled out of sight. Solona whooshed out a sigh of relief. 

“Disrespect for elders isn’t an attractive trait,” Sweeney rebuked, but his eyes twinkled. “Our esteemed leader may be… gregarious, but he mustn’t be dismissed lightly, especially by an apprentice.”

Solona opened her mouth, an apology on her tongue. 

“I on the other hand, can dismiss him as often as I well please. I’m older than he is after all,” Sweeney scoffed. “‘As you well know, Enchanter,’ I remember when he got that staff. Don’t remember the exact year he put it up his arse, but it was pretty soon after I imagine.” 

She bit her lips in a grin, ‘ _ Maker bless the day. _ ’

“Anyway, you came in with a bee in your bonnet,” he barked, still blazing from his rant. “What’s the idea?”

“Well, I realized that it might help me to actually experience the spell. That way I might be able to pick out the sensation for myself, and I got some new ideas for things to visualize when I actually cast.”

Sweeney crossed his arms and tapped his foot. “I’m not sure you’ll get what you’re looking for from a basic dispelling. It’ll shut down the spell alright, but I’m not sure that it directly affects the caster.” 

Solona fought the discouragement that rose at his dismissal. His foot was still tapping. She waited. 

The foot stopped, “Mana cleanse could work here... It’s not a pleasant experience and it’s not a spell I’ve practiced recently, but if you’re willing to give it a shot, I’m game.”

“I trust you.” 

Sweeney clapped his hands together. “Let’s get going then!” he boomed and marched out of the room. “Guards! Bring a chair in here will you? I can’t be standing around on these old bones all day.” 

He shuffled around in his robes, “Aha! Got a lyrium potion here, it won’t fill you to the top, but It’ll take the edge off. You’ve got to be careful using this stuff you know, especially going to extremes like this. It’ll throw you right out of whack.” 

“About tha-,” the templar stomped in with the chair before she could finish her question. He clomped back to his post without a word. 

“Now!” Sweeney ushered her to the chair, “You sit here, try not to brace yourself, it’ll only make things worse. Keep your eyes open if you can, it’ll be good for you to see the spell cast as it should be.” 

Solona took a deep breath and splayed her fingers over her knees. She focused on the texture of the soft wool and imagined sheep grazing in a dew touched meadow, curling up under piles of winter blankets, the downy fur of newborn kittens. 

“Ready? Now watch how I use my staff here,” he jabbed the staff forward like a lance. Blue light whirled around her. 

Her magic rushed out in a torrent. Solona gasped. She clenched her fists, instinctively trying to grasp the magic as it went. It was something like getting her fingernails pulled out by their roots; a deep pressure that tore at her core.

“Breathe,” Sweeney offered, close to her ear. A familiar weight squeezed her shoulder. She opened her eyes, blinking away blurry tears and tried to catch her breath. 

“I told you not to tighten up like that,” he tutted. “It’s never a  _ good _ feeling, but clenching makes it far worse. I’ve got the lyrium right here if you need it.”

She nodded shakily, not trusting herself to speak just yet.

“Remember, we did this for a reason. I want you to try to describe for me what you’re feeling right now. Try to move past the taking, and just feel. Use those visual cues you’re so good at.” 

Solona blinked at him. It was like he was far away, or speaking through some barrier. His words came through in short bursts. “I think... I’m in shock,” she squeezed out.

He smiled and patted her shoulder. “It may feel like that. Magic is so much a part of us, some have compared it to losing a limb. Cheer up though girl, it’s not gone forever. Now how do you feel?” 

“I feel… deaf. Or blind? I can’t feel, there’s nothing. It’s gone,” her throat tightened on the last word and scrubbed her cheeks furiously. ‘ _ Come on. Get it together. _ ’

Wiping her nose on her sleeve she coughed out, “Maker, is this what the tranquil go through?” 

Sweeney grew solemn. “I fear the tranquil endure something far worse, though the process may be less painful as it’s a sealing of magic. A cut if you will, instead of an... extraction. The tranquil also lose far more than their mana. They lose their emotions, their entire connection to the fade. The ones I’ve spoken with say this makes things… easier, in the end.”

“Do normal people feel like this?” she asked.

Sweeney laughed. “Perhaps! Perhaps this is why they act so senselessly,” he winked. “I don’t know. Would a child born deaf miss hearing? It’s hard to say.” 

She nodded slowly. Sweeney studied her carefully, “There now, you’re coming through. I’ve still got the lyrium if you need it. We obviously can’t do much more practice today.”

“No…” Solona spoke slowly, “I think I’d like to sit with it, for a while.”

Sweeney nodded and stood, “Good then. If you’re going the natural route I’d say we should take, let’s say 3 days off, just to get your mana up and running. In the meantime, write down any thoughts you have; visualizations, sensations, all of it. Keep reading those texts, and meditate when you can. Take the lyrium just in case.” 

He helped Solona stand. “A guard will accompany you for now. You’re probably disoriented and we wouldn’t want you getting lost somewhere,” he chuckled. Solona smiled back weakly. 

“Now I am off to do what old men ought to be doing, writing to our grandchildren and painting with watercolors to disguise our cataracs,” he cackled. 

“You have grandchildren?” she asked, incredulous. In all her years she hadn’t heard of any mage with a family. She’d assumed it wasn’t allowed.

Sweeney stopped. She was nearly his height now, but somehow she always felt he was looking down at her. Perhaps this was a feature in grandfathers. 

“I do indeed,” he responded. “Great grandchildren even. A new one is due within the month in fact.” He smiled a little sadly. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to meet her, but letters and presents are something. It’s a grandfather’s duty to spoil you know.” 

He tugged her braid, breaking her haze. “Get on with you. Dawdling will catch you the freezy chair.” 

Solona rolled her eyes as they left the practice room. She teetered a little at the doorway. He was right, she was disoriented. 

“Escort the apprentice wherever she cares to go, would you?” Sweeney asked a templar in the hall. 

“Certainly, Senior Enchanter,” he creaked as he stepped from the wall. Sweeney shuffled off and Solona looked around. 

Returning to her rooms meant dealing with the girls. Perhaps the chantry? She wrinkled her nose. Keilli had taken to visiting the chantry every chance she got. A few months back one of the cats had become possessed. It wreaked havoc in the tower and took down three templars before it was stopped. Later, Sweeney had insisted she take the “rare opportunity to view healing in action,” and fought with Wynne to allow her into the medical rooms. 

Keilli was deeply shaken by the ordeal. She had an affinity with animals that Solona could never match. She’d tried and tried to get the cats to come to her, but they remained aloof. Even Cullen had gotten a bird to land on him once or twice, although Solona maintained it was only because they liked his shiny gloves. 

Kielli on the other hand seemed to always have a cat wound around her ankles. Seeing one of them turn changed her. She’d become terrified of possession, convinced magic was inherently evil. She scarcely talked to anyone except the chantry sisters. The other girls had tried to reason with her for weeks. Solona had reached out in her own way, praying with her in the afternoons. Mother Elise herself joined the effort, but nothing seemed to ease Keilli’s revulsion at all things magical. 

Listening to Keilli’s frenetic prayers for the Maker to “take this curse away,” was far from appealing. She knew Jowan would be in the commons, but she was too exhausted to talk to anyone. 

‘ _ Library it is then, _ ’ she thought with a shrug. She was a creature of habit after all.

The guard clanked behind her as she descended the stairs. The darkness and the stone called to mind Cullen’s description of a cave. She stopped short. Silence fell as she closed her eyes and tried to work past the immutable ache her magic left to _ feel _ the emptiness. 

Behind her lids, the stairwell walls grew smooth. Water dripped from some unseen spring. Her breath echoed in the cavern and miniscule skitters alerted her to cave dwelling fauna. There was a familiar hollowness, a cavernous void but it wasn’t right. The yawning gap where her magic should be felt far more empty than this. Perhaps the cave just needed to be bigger. 

She opened her eyes and kept going. The clanking resumed.

When they reached the library the templar claimed a place on the inside wall next to the evening guard. She found one of the tomes from her list and settled into her favorite chair. She tried to focus on the text, but it was difficult. Like a lost tooth, she couldn’t ignore her magic’s absence for long. Soon the shadows stretched halfway across the floor. 

A distant song drew Solona to her feet. She drifted out the door and smiled. Cullen was leaning against a stone fence, his armor glared in the sunlight. 

“We’re not supposed to be here,” Solona said.

“Why not?” he replied.

“We can’t leave the tower,” she said as she sat down beside him. The grass was warm and pungent. Fluffy white sheep dotted the hillside below them. 

“Well I can.” 

Solona frowned, “You won’t though, will you?” 

He leant his head against the wall, “You might leave too you know. Mages get stationed outside the tower all the time.”

Her heart beat faster. “No! I don’t want to leave. Can’t we all just stay together?”

“And do what?” he glanced at her sideways. 

“Live?” she implored. 

He turned his gaze to the sky, “Templars and mages can’t be friends.” 

“That’s a lie!” she insisted. “Irving and Greagoir could be friends if they both weren’t so stubborn.”

Cullen opened his mouth. “Apprentice,” he called. He leant forward and shook her shoulder. “Apprentice!” 

She opened her eyes. Her templar escort leant over her, “Apprentice, it’s curfew. Gather your things and follow me to your quarters.” 

Solona lifted her head, slowly reorienting to her surroundings. ‘ _ Maker, I must’ve been more drained than I thought. _ ’ She gathered her notes, shelved the book, and followed the templar’s muffled footsteps across the carpet. 

Her brief nap provided a small respite from the persistent ache of her magic. It was starting to return, if only the barest shimmer, like condensation on a glass. It didn’t help much. Now the gaping void just itched on the edges. She fingered the vial in her pocket longingly, but held off. Any discomfort was worth the insight she might gain. 

She yawned as she followed the templar absently down the hall. She’d have to apologize to Jowan in the morning. For now, all she wanted was sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuity Notes: Kinloch hold has several different lunch schedules. There's just no way there were only "70 mages and 30 templars" in the entire tower. I'm incorporating all DLC!
> 
> Points if you spotted the Arrested Development quote!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solona's struggles continue. 
> 
> A few weeks later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [EllsterSMASH](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllsterSMASH) is an angel and a grammatical wizard. I adore you <3
> 
> And also thank you everyone who has dropped a kudos or commented! You all bring sunshine into my life! <3

“Void take this whole Maker cursed tower!” Solona growled.

Sweeney’s glare cut across the hall. “What was that?”

Solona pressed her nails into her palms and ground down the retort that sprang to her lips.

Her mentor coughed and waved his hands as the dust from her failed conjuring floated up towards the vaulted ceilings. She’d tried again, and again, in vain to call forth the inimitable emptiness of a cave. Instead she just made more rocks.

‘ _Merciful Andraste, deliver me from this godforsaken bollocks_ ,’ she glowered at the offending rubble.

Sweeney reached up and silently began a spell to clear the debris. “Again!” he barked.

Solona gritted her teeth and closed her eyes. Pushing past her frustration to the space where her magic lay, she pictured silence, darkness, a void. ‘ _Screw the cave_ ,’ she thought. All that mattered was the space, the empty nothingness.  

Behind her lids she saw Sweeney, perpetually scrutinizing. His gaze was leveled, ever vigilant to catalogue any mistakes, his brow was carved with disapproval. Slowly, his relentless tapping foot grew quiet. His image faded into the dim background as she called forth the pressing darkness of non-existence.

“Stop! Solona, **stop**!” he roared.

She jerked out of the spell. Sweeney swayed in front of her, grasping his knees as though he might fall on the spot. She dashed forward, adrenaline spiking through her frayed nerves.

“You’d best be cautious, apprentice,” he growled as she held him steady. “What in the name of Andraste’s flaming pyre was  _that_?”

He shook her off, waving away the templar that stepped forward from the wall. “Fucking entropy?” he wheezed. “Feeling a bit agitated are we?”

“Entropy?” she whispered. Her veins turned to ice. “Maker, no…” She’d _attacked_ him. Solona bent her head and clenched her fists as shame climbed hot up the back of her throat.  

“No! _No_ ,” she shook her head. “Oh, no. I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!” She squeezed her eyes shut against the hot prickles. ‘ _No excuses Solona,_ ’ she rebuked.

Instead she begged, “What happened?” She couldn’t face him. “What did I-”

“You damn well nearly put me to sleep!” Sweeney roared. “How many times have I told you girl? Focus!”

She blinked her damp lashes and steadied her shaking hands as he settled into a familiar tirade.

“This is exactly what happens when you get distracted by your own petty nonsense. If you were paying attention to the spell like you should have been instead of feeling ungrateful, you might have actually gotten somewhere!”

“I’m sorry,” she said, ducking her head lower. She pulled in measured breaths, willing away the hot red splotches that crawled up from her chest to her burning ears and cheeks. She pushed back the relief that floated up as he hit the regular beats of his lecture, his voice loud and strong. This shame was earned.

As she nodded along with his words, she swayed with the pull of gravity. They’d been at this for at least the last six hours, ever since dinner. No shadows marked the passing of time now. It was a wonder neither of them had toppled over; everyone else was long asleep.

One benefit of having a Senior Enchanter for a mentor was that he had the authority to supercede some of the templars’ regulations. Sweeney wasn’t one to care about curfew or who might be inconvenienced by his decisions, so he was free to make his practice schedule as rigorous as he liked.

‘ _It’s no wonder the templars hate him_ ,’ Solona thought ruefully, glancing at the wall. The remaining guard stood rigid in their post, trapped until the room was empty. ‘ _At least I get to stretch._ ’

As if on cue Sweeney barked, “Again!”

Solona breathed deep through her nose and closed her eyes. Her hands were trembling, her head throbbed. When she reached for her magic it felt raw. It groaned, but she pushed past the pain, reaching up. ‘ _Dark, silent, cool, still..._ ’

“Stop!”

She peeked through a crack in her lids. A thin line of frost twisted a path between the stones in front of her. The torchlight gleamed off the fractals, mocking her.  

Crushing the heavy folds of her skirt in her fists, she threw back her head and blinked fiercely up at the shadowed ceiling. ‘ _Keep it together_ ,’ she warned herself. She timed her breaths to the tap of Sweeney’s foot, ‘ _1, 2, in. 1, 2, out. 1, 2, in, 1, 2-'_

Sweeney sighed loudly. His voice took on a nasal quality as he pinched the bridge of his nose, a sure sign he was getting a headache. “Walk me through it, what’s going on in your mind before and _while_ you cast?”

She kicked at the ice at her feet, schooling her voice to a monotone that would hide her frustration. “It’s... black. Cool stillness. I think of the cave, I think of chasms. I think of the air in winter when it’s so still that even the water drops out of the sky. I think of forgotten corners, and shadows so deep you couldn’t begin to guess what they hide...”

Maybe if it were earlier, or if perhaps she hadn’t had to watch herself run _another_ potential solution into the same old dead end, she might have been able to keep up the calm facade. As it was, she simply didn’t have the energy to push down the plaintive words that poured out of her throat.

“What else is there?” She cried, “What else can I see? If I try to counteract an individual spell, I just cast its opposite. If I try to suppress it I create air. If I think of the feeling of having no magic I just start to drain _you_. Nothing works!”

‘ _Shut up, don’t whine,_ ’ her mind scolded, but she couldn’t keep a churlish tone from leaking into her voice. “Why do I have to know this anyway? It’s not like I’ll ever need it, it’s pointless!”

“Stupid is what it is,” Sweeney snapped, cold as the stone at her feet. “Look at what happened today. You accidentally cast an entropy spell because you couldn’t control its form! The _only_ way to protect against uncontrollable magic is to know _all_ its forms and be able to channel them effectively. It’s an infant’s lesson! One I assumed you’d grasped long ago, but curse me for a fool!”

Solona bit her lip and crossed her arms as she felt her flush heighten with her anger. He was right, of course he was. But Maker, had he never struggled? She tapped her toes against the stone and stared into the shadowed vaults above them. Two shoes beat a competing rhythm, echoing in the silence of the chamber.

“Again,” he said flatly. “You’re working _magic_ here. It’s not something physical that you can just copy. I told you we’d run into this boundary when we started, and now we’ve hit it. This is where that mule-headed, narrow minded thinking will get you.”

She stilled as anger was flushed away by shame. He was right, again. If she could _just_ figure out a way to make the other methods of channeling make sense, maybe...

She closed her eyes and reached. This time she imagined the blue glow of magic, the swirling green of the fade. She pictured the quiet moments before dreams began, the blank spaces of the fade with no spirits to fill them. She imagined pulling it back, out of the fade and into reality.

“Stop!” Sweeney shouted.

When she opened her eyes he was surrounded by a faint blue glow. She’d started to drain his mana again. She raised her eyes skyward, and prayed. ‘ _Andraste,_ **_please_ ** _for the love of the Maker grant me guidance._ ’

She rubbed her face vigorously, hoping to rouse some lingering shreds of fortitude. “Sorry,” she mumbled into her hands. He didn’t even have to answer for her to hear his response, ‘ _Don’t be sorry Apprentice, be better._ ’

It was a mental block, there was no getting around it. She was the only one standing in her way. ‘ _So stupid…_ ’ she shook her head.

She looked to Sweeney and waited. He stared back with hard eyes. The skin around them sagged in loose bagging wrinkles that matched the the drooping corners of his mouth.

In the absence of distraction, her bones protested. Beyond the expected ache of standing too long, the insidious cold of the stone had long since crept up through her soles and penetrated the wool layers of her gown.

If she was feeling the wear of the day, he must experience it twenty-fold. He was an old man, pulled from plans of retirement for the sake of helping, “ _Just one last student. There’s some use in these bones yet!_ ” So here he was, pushing himself far past the point of obligation to help her. He should be in bed.

‘ _As should I,_ ’ the sullen thought snuck in.

Perhaps something in her face softened, because Sweeney offered her a bemused grimace and rolled his shoulders. When they met hers, his eyes were steady and warm.

“That’s my girl,” he commended and crossed his arms. “Now back to it!”

“Again?” she prompted, corners of her mouth twitching upwards into a rueful smirk.

Sweeney creaked out a chuckle as his foot began its familiar dance. “Watch your cheek, but yes. Again!”

She closed her eyes, took a breath and reached through the burning edges of her magic. ‘ _Think of the void_ …'

Untold ages later, the heavy scrape of boots approached the door. Solona nearly sagged with relief. Sweeney rarely kept them past the midnight shift change. Even he knew that pushing past exhaustion was unwise in the circle. Still, she’d made no progress.

She anxiously searched his face for any indication that he might continue the lesson. She kept her own expression carefully blank. If he thought she was begging, he might keep them there longer out of spite.

He caught her eye and grunted, “Alright, alright. Don’t turn those moon eyes on me. Get some sleep and I’ll see you at first practice tomorrow morning.”

She nodded without a word, too harried and drawn to articulate even a basic confirmation.

As Sweeney cleared the room of the evidence of her failure, she shot a small prayer of gratitude skyward. Apprentices weren’t allowed to learn the vanishing spells, lest they use it to hide evidence of any _untoward_ experimentation, giving her a fleeting opportunity to rest.

When she closed her eyes the room swayed around her. Maker’s breath, how many times had she tried, and still nothing? She’d gone through two lyrium potions in this session alone.

Normally after a second dose she’d be too wired to sleep, but tonight had blown past that. Her body was leaving her mind behind on its journey to slumber. With each movement it grew heavier and slower.

She choked on a sob when she remembered the stairs. ‘ _Maybe if I collapse they’ll have to carry me... Or maybe I could just sleep in the hallway. I wouldn’t mind, and the hall guards are here anyway so I wouldn’t be causing trouble…_ ’

She shuffled after Sweeney as he finally left the practice hall, followed closely by their guard. On the opposite wall, Cullen stepped out of formation as a new templar slotted into his place. She stopped short and stared, blind confusion swallowing up her thoughts.

‘ _Tuesday…? Makers breath, of course it’s Tuesday... How could I have forgotten? Of all the void cursed days…'_ Half-formed memories of the evening flicked through her mind, ‘ _Merciful maker, what he must think?_ ’

“Is there a problem, Apprentice?” Sweeney asked. He peered over his crossed arms, eyebrows drawn.

‘ _What a stupid question.’_ Solona frowned, ‘ _Of course there’s a problem. I can’t work my shoddy sodding magic, and now I’ve spent the last who knows how many hours making a fool of myself in front of….’_ Sweeney’s gaze flicked to Cullen, standing at strict attention in front of her as he waited to escort them to their rooms.

She faltered. Cullen would never judge her like that. It was wrong to think so. She’d made a fool of herself in front of every templar on guard this month, including at least three of the five currently standing in the hallway.

Sweeney glanced at Cullen again, raising his eyebrows. She blinked slowly, taking in the five sets of armour gleaming in the dull torchlight. Five silver helmets, four turned towards her as she stood and gaped at the one posted before her.

“Apprentice?” Sweeney prompted.

She opened her mouth but no words came out. Heat rushed to her bare cheeks as her heart started to race. “I-” she dropped her gaze to Cullen’s boots.

 _‘Maker help me,_ ’ Solona plead. ‘ _Let them think it’s exhaustion. I’ll stop. I’ll stop going to the library. I’ll ask Eadric to bring me the books I need. Andraste’s ashes, could I not even keep it together enough to not gawk in full view of a Senior Mage and four guards?_ **_Idiot_ ** _girl._ ’

“I forgot it was Tuesday,” she croaked helplessly, tongue cotton in her mouth.

Sweeney narrowed his eyes, nodded twice, then turned fully to Cullen. “I take it you were the source of this ‘cave’ idea?”

Solona froze as her eyes shot to the gap in gap in Cullen’s helm.

What Sweeney was playing at, she couldn’t begin to guess. With one sentence the game had changed so far beyond her understanding, she could only watch and pray the people on her side knew how to win.

Cullen startled, but nodded smoothly to the mage. “Yes, Senior Enchanter,” he said coolly.

“Excellent,” Sweeney boomed. He clapped once, the sound cracking like thunder in the silent hall. “I heard Greagoir mention your excellent grasp of void manipulation. I’d _hoped_ that my young apprentice here might benefit from your expertise. Unfortunately, she doesn’t seem to have caught on.”

Solona shot Cullen a warning look when he shifted forward slightly. Though his words had been cordial, the undercurrent of disapproval was unmistakable. She would hardly put it past him to chastise her mentor right here in the hallway. ‘ _Now is_ **_not_ ** _the time to protest the treatment of apprentices..._ ’

She counted the seconds before he conceded. “Thank you, Senior Enchanter,” he said in that same marble manner. He hadn’t looked at her once, but she glared anyway.

If Sweeney caught on, he ignored it. He yawned wide and loud, “Off to bed then! Thank you for your help, Ser..?”

“Ser Cullen,” he bowed stiff and shallow.

Solona glowered at his feet. He would bring this up tomorrow, of that she had no doubt. As sweet as it was that he felt protective of the apprentices, the concerns he’d raised regarding her mentor were misguided, ill founded, and most importantly, unwelcome.

“There you go Solona,” Sweeney clapped a hand on her shoulder and propelled her towards the stairs. “Next time you forget a name just ask. The templars don’t bite, you know.”

“Y-yes, thank you,” she stuttered and scuttled into the stairwell.

Sweeney’s voice echoed over the clank of heavy footsteps in the dark, “Which ones are you two?”

‘ _Andraste grant him every blessing he deserves,_ ’ she prayed as she skipped down the stairs. She was the luckiest girl in Thedas. She grinned, high off the adrenaline rush of relief. ‘ _He’s an answer to prayer. Only Sweeney could’ve pulled that off!_ ’

In the dim torchlight, her foot caught on an uneven stone and her whole body pitched forward. Before she had the chance to cry out, she caught herself on the interior wall. She snorted as she pushed herself up. That would teach her to run in the dark!

She held her hands up to the nearest torch. Nothing too bad, but a few dots of blood stood out from the shallow scrapes. She should heal them now, but her magic chafed at even the thought of casting. It could wait until morning, as long as no templars noticed. She giggled. ‘ _Wouldn’t that just cap off the night. Make that one count corruption, two counts blood magic, one for each palm!_ ’

“Apprentice!” Cullen’s heavy boots thudded to a stop behind her. A silver glove reached for her, but pulled back. “Please be more careful. Are you hurt?” he asked, concern and warmth overflowing through his voice.

And just like that, she was angry.

Underneath his concern she heard every ounce of condemnation. " _He shouldn’t be so hard on you. He keeps you up too late. He works you too hard. I don’t like the way he talks to you. Perhaps he’s too stuck in the old ways, a younger mentor might be more adaptive and understanding.”_

She snatched her hand to her chest and spun away. “I’m _fine,_ Cullen.” she snapped, taking the next stairs two at a time. “Maker’s breath! Give it a rest, why don’t you?”

They marched through the hallways in silence. She could feel his confusion and dismay swirling like dust clouds with every scrape of his boots on the stone behind her. Anxiety creaked in every flex of his gloves, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. He had no room to complain, if he wasn’t so damned _nice_ and _perfect_ all the time, she wouldn’t have been staring at all!

By the time they reached her doorway her flash of temper had cooled enough that prickles of shame danced over her spine where she knew he watched.

She paused at her doorway, mindful this time of the templars posted at either end of the hall. “Goodnight Ser,” she intended to tell his shoulder, as open and honest an apology as she could muster.

Instead, she was drawn up by the vision of Cullen, sleepy and bewildered. Those golden curls would be crushed dark against his forehead, mussed beyond repair by a day beneath unforgiving metal. Purple dusted under shadowed amber eyes that seemed to plead, “ _What did I do wrong? I’m sorry. Tell me so I can fix it._ ”

He brought his fist to his chest in a final salute. “Apprentice,” he said, his voice heavy with honey and summer and all things good in the world.

A wave of guilt rushed over her. ‘ _Maker he’s so beautiful. And so good. He’s done nothing but try to help me. What kind of person would be cruel in the face of care and compassion?_ ’

The shame slithered freely through her veins. It was too much. She was blushing again, but it was too late to worry about who could see and what they might think when her bed was less than five steps away.

She had to go. In one burst, she pushed open the door, and collapsed into her bunk. She was asleep before she could remember take off her shoes.

 

Solona woke up on the 3rd of Firstfall feeling like death warmed over.

She glared at the clear sky peeking through the windows and cursed her inability to sleep in. ‘ _I’m exhausted,_ ’ she pleaded with her brain. ‘ _Just try. Even two more minutes would be worth it.'_

She shivered as the last remnants of her dream resurfaced. She’d been chased by fluffy white sheep with human faces. Some of them had yelled at her.

“Take your shoes off!” Jowan had bleated. “Practice tomorrow! Again!” Sweeney had baa’d. The worst were the Cullen sheep. They’d rained from the sky like fluffy golden snowflakes, calling “Apprentice! She’ll freeze like that. At least put a blanket on her,” as they piled up in drifts so high she couldn’t escape.

“Blasted fade,” she grumbled. The dream had raised her sometime before dawn, half smothered by her winter blanket, half choking on her hair. Her feet, barely covered by her socks, were hanging completely off the edge of the bed, making her knees exceptionally sore when she rolled back over to claim a few more hours of sleep.

‘ _Would anyone notice if I just didn’t change my robes?_ ’ she thought dimly as she picked at her heavy woolen garment. Probably not, if they didn’t see her wake up in it, but with most of the girls already up and walking, it was a lost cause.

Remembering Sheep-Sweeney’s warning, and the day of the damned _week_ , she went to splash some water on her face and grabbed a comb to attack the snarls that had rooted in her hair.

“What’s the matter with you?” Jowan asked when she responded to his morning greeting with a half-mumbled noncommittal. “It’s _Wednesday_ , you’re never grumpy on Wednesday.”

An undignified grunt was the best response she could muster.

Jowan raised his eyebrows, “Well, _excuse me_ for caring.”

She sighed and shook her head. If she pissed him off this early she’d never make it through the day. “I’m sorry. I’ll be better after I eat. I was practicing with Sweeney until midnight.” She kicked at the pavestones. “I have no idea what I’m going to do about this blasted dispel issue.”

“Want to skip practice with me?” he offered. “I scheduled time in the greenhouses this morning. The gorgeous Lily will be there, and I’ve been meaning to show you.”

She sighed. She did love the fall flowers, but- “No, I can’t. Sweeney would kill me. Maker, I just wish-”

Her eyes caught the sword of mercy gleaming from a guard’s chest. “ _Give it a rest will you_?” Her memory taunted.

She flushed with shame. ‘ _So stupid!_ ’ Maker, how could she have just gone off like that?

“What?” Jowan stopped and searched her face. “What is it? You’re really starting to worry me.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, and shook her head again. How could she explain it to him? “It’s nothing really. I just remembered something from last night.... It’s stupid, I don’t know...”

She hid her face in her palms. “Do you think I’m a bad person?” she whispered between her fingers.

“Solona,” he cajoled. “Come on, how can you ask that? If _you’re_ bad, what chance do the rest of us possibly have?”

When she looked up his eyes were warm. ‘ _I’d be lost without you_ ,’ she thought. Suddenly, she was blinking back tears.

“Alright, none of that!” Jowan grasped her hand. “What happened to our beautiful castle by the sea? We can’t _both_ be gloomy wrecks. Who’s going to cheer me up if you’re down?”

She squeezed his fingers with a smile and released them. Today was _not_ a day to tempt the templars, but when Jowan took her arm, she let him keep it. “ _There’s no life without living_ ,” Anders had said before he left. Perhaps in that way he’d had the right of it.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll catch you up on all the gossip. Did you hear Ellie tried to make a potion for her complexion? Irving busted her for wasting storeroom supplies. She had to sit in his office listening to him lecture on ‘discipline and responsibility’ for _two hours!_ ”

She giggled dutifully and leaned into his shoulder. ‘ _The luckiest, I am the luckiest girl,_ ’ she sighed as he launched into his patented Irving imitation.

The stories continued until Jowan paused abruptly and raised his eyebrows over his half finished eggs.

“What?” Solona asked.

“No Chantry this morning?” Jowan returned. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”

She flushed and dug into her own plate. “I’m too tired,” she deflected.

“Too _tired_ ? On a _Wednesday_?”

She scowled at his exaggerated incredulity. Could he not leave one void cursed thing alone? “I told you, I was up all night.”

He narrowed his eyes, “Come on, what’s actually going on? Don’t tell me there’s trouble in paradise.”

She flushed harder and sunk into her chair. “Come on Jowan, not today. Please?” she whined. She needed more time to search for an appropriate apology before she was ready to talk about it.

He frowned and leaned forward, voice dropping low. “You know you can tell me right? If anything actually happened, if he did anything you didn’t like, you need to talk to me. We’ll figure it out.”

She groaned and hid her face in her hands. “No, it wasn’t his fault. It was me.”

“Besides”- she glared and sat up- “how many times do I have to say it? He would _never_ do something like that. Okay? It’s Not. Like. That.”

“ _Okay_ ,” Jowan raised his hands in surrender and went back to his eggs.

When the silence stretched past the two minute mark she rubbed her eyes and tried again. “I’m sorry. I’m tired.” She pressed his foot under the table so he’d look at her. “I would tell you though. If anything actually happened, you’d be the very first to know.”

She’d meant it to be reassuring, but something strange flashed across his face as he nodded slowly. Guilt? Maybe worry? Maybe it was just a reaction to the heavy subject. Assault wasn’t a big problem at Kinloch, but every mage heard the stories.

“I know,” he said quietly, then smiled. “I’ve missed you, you know? It’s such a shame. Uldred’s finally gone and you’re busier than ever. It feels like months since we’ve had a chance to really talk.”

She cringed. “I know, I know. I keep thinking I’ve figured it out and then it turns out to be nothing.”

“Maybe I’ll petition Irving for you: ‘Solona needs a break!’” He laughed, “Or better yet, I’ll ask him to let you be _my_ mentor until Uldred gets back! That way we might actually be even for once.”

She snorted. “If you want to risk it go ahead, but I’d worry that Irving might offer to take you on himself. Then you’d _really_ be bored!”

They cleared their plates and left the hall. “Don’t you have herbalism this morning?” Solona asked when Jowan turned with her towards the ascending stairs.

“I ah- yes. I do,” he nodded twice, then grinned. “I just thought it might be nice to walk together since you don’t have to rush off this morning.”

Jowan chattered as they climbed, and she smiled along, punctuating his gossip with sounds of affirmation or disbelief as required. She really had missed this; it was so good to just relax.

Who could worry about magic or apologies when Helen had stolen Yvette’s hairbrush and brushed a cat with it, because Yvette was allergic and Michael had told Sarah that he’d _seen_ Yvette and Paul going at it in the stacks when Paul had told Helen not _two weeks_ before that he was loyal to her, and not even _attracted_ to Yvette. But of course, Yvette claimed that Michael had made up the whole thing as revenge for-

Jowan’s story cut off as they rounded the corner and stepped into the hallway. “I’ll be off then! See you at noon for lunch?” he called loudly, jabbing her in the side with his elbow as he sped up and ducked into a doorway.

It was only after he moved that she saw the source of his bizarre behavior. Cullen stood waiting at the entrance to the Chantry. ‘ _That’s just unfair,_ ’ she thought, hands flashing to smooth her ratted hair. Somehow he’d stood in exactly the right place for a beam of morning light to bathe him in a holy glow. His eyes were darker in the shadow of his brow, more caramel than amber.

“A-Apprentice,” he said.

She needed to keep walking if she was to salvage any impression of normalcy. “Cullen. Ser,” she amended for the sake of the guards posted at each stairwell.

She caught a flash of blue at the corner of her eye. Jowan grinned at her from the shadows of a doorway, out of sight of the templars in the hall. ‘ _I’ll kill him_ ,’ she thought, glaring daggers. He gave her a thumbs up.

“I-” Cullen started. She jerked towards him, training her features into what she hoped was a neutral expression. “I, um,” he continued, and reached for the back of his neck, flustered.

Oh no. No, this was awful. He thought she was still angry. ‘ _Maker, this is why I needed more time. This would be so much easier if we could speak in private. How can I fix this?_ ’

“I-” she started.

“I was hoping to speak with you,” he finished, looking somewhere to her left. “You’re usually here for morning service, but I- I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“No, I-” His gaze snapped back to hers and her breath hitched. Maker, this was easier when he had his helmet on. “I would have been there, really. I was just so tired. And it was eggs this morning you know. It’s important to eat if I’m going to keep this kind of schedule.”

She was rambling nonsense. The heat crawling up her neck told her she was flushing, but there was no way to stop it. It happened so often lately, maybe the templars would think it was a permanent feature or an allergic reaction instead of this _ridiculous_ crush.

“And really, I-” to her horror an enormous yawn forced its way out of her mouth. When she opened her eyes, Cullen was yawning too.

“I confess, I’m feeling the morning a little myself,” he chuckled.

“Oh, of course!” She was so _stupid_ , complaining when he’d been up just as late as she had. She turned, eager to escape. If he laughed again she wasn’t sure she could be trusted not to melt straight into the floor. “I shouldn’t keep you, I have practice anyway.”  

“No!” said Cullen, stepping towards her. “Or wait, I mean. Yes, that’s what I hoped to discuss.”

She stopped and cringed. Her cheeks burned as she bent her head to apologize. “Yes. About that, I’m truly sorry. It was wrong of me to speak so harshly. I’m sorry if I have caused you any distress, I assure you I meant no disrespect.”

“What?” Cullen asked blinking in the sunlight, “No, what, that’s not- Don’t apologize. That’s not what I meant at all. It’s not necessary. I...”

He blushed and rubbed the back of his neck again, drawing her eyes to his golden halo of curls. ‘ _Maker, you’re too easy to love_.’ she thought.

“It was necessary,” Solona assured him.

“Ah, well um, thank you then. But really, what I wanted to say was that last night I was thinking of y-”-he cleared his throat-“your problem and um, have you learned much astronomy?”

“Astronomy?” she echoed distantly. Movement from Jowan’s corner caught her eye. He shot her a wink before he turned out of the doorway with one of the new initiates. She frowned. Jowan had always kept well away from the Chantry. Just when had be become open minded enough to start escorting initiates around?

“Apprentice?” Cullen’s warm eyes crinkled slightly at the edges, his lips quirked up on one side into a gentle smile.

Maker, it was so much more potent when they were _real_. She would swear her heart literally stuttered in her chest each time he looked at her. It was a blessing she’d never talked to him like this before. She simply wouldn’t have survived.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed before she remembered to keep her voice level. “I thought I saw someone. What were you saying? Astronomy?”

Cullen glanced down the hallway and straightened. A tiny shadow formed between his brows as his eyes narrowed at Jowan’s retreating back. ‘ _Ah, right,_ ’ she thought. ‘ _He doesn’t like Jowan either. I guess I’ll hear about him later too._ ’

“Yes, astronomy,” Cullen said turning back to her, his eyes a little harder than they had been. “I was looking at the stars, and I remembered that modern astronomers have described the space between them in similar terms to what you’ve been attempting at your practices.”

Solona nodded slowly, flickers of hope dancing on the edges of her thoughts. “Yes. Yes, like in the writings of... Who was it, Sister Oran Petrarchius?”

“Exactly!” Cullen grinned and he was sunshine, pouring light and hope into her soul.

She bit her lip to keep from beaming back, but it was futile. “Oh, that’s _perfect_!” she gasped, bouncing forward on her toes.

He must’ve shifted into shadow, for as she watched, his eyes flicked down and grew darker, if no less warm. They seemed to have their own gravity, pulling her up and down and in all at once.

He coughed and stepped back, and they were gone. Solona blinked, startled at the sudden reappearance of her surroundings.

“I um, I took the liberty of making a list,” he said twisting to reach in his sash. “Here,” he said too loud, and extended his arm stiffly.

She took the scroll from his hand, careful not to touch the metal. She unfurled it to find a list, eight or so titles long, marked in a cramped, uniform scrawl. ‘ _His handwriting!_ ’ She blushed. Maker she was a fool.

She curled the list into her palm before she could do something truly stupid like trace the letters with her finger. That would save for later.

“Yes, I ah,” Cullen was rubbing the back of his neck and looking at the ceiling. The light brought out the pink in his cheeks and highlighted the dusting of stubble along his jaw. ‘ _He must not have shaved yet_ ,’ she thought, drifting into a dream of what that might look like.

“I realize you could do this research on your own, and you may already be familiar with these works,” he continued, “but I know this issue has been bothering you for some time…”

“Thank you,” she said, pushing warmth and gratitude into each syllable. “Truly, you’ve been beyond helpful.”

She quirked her lips when Cullen continued scanning the upper edges of the arched hallway. So uncomfortable with praise, could he _be_ more Fereldan?

“I guess it’s just on me now to actually make it work,” she quipped.

“You’ll get it,” he nodded firmly and briefly met her eyes with a reassuring smile. As he settled into his usual stance, tension easing from his shoulders, she grinned. ‘ _Victory_.’

Another initiate, they came and went far too quickly to remember their names, walked through the doorway behind him.

“I’ll show these to Senior Enchanter Sweeney as well. I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear of your continued assistance,” she announced to the hallway.

An expression she’d never seen and couldn’t quite identify crossed Cullen’s face. It flashed, somewhere between reluctant amusement and a pained grimace before it vanished under his formal mask. He stepped out from the wall and gave his customary salute, bowing briefly over a closed fist. “Apprentice,” he nodded, a few curls swinging to brush his brow.

“Ser,” she curtsied unsteadily, and scurried off to the stairwell. Once safely inside, she pressed the scroll to her lips and beamed, unrestrained.

‘ _Exasperation_ ,’ she thought. No matter what the remaining hours brought, she’d gained two precious gifts. This note, and the delicious knowledge that she now knew the exact shape of his features when Cullen felt exasperation.

Solona beamed. ‘ _Maker bless Wednesday_.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The world needs more book-smart Cullen.
> 
> Points if you caught the Friends reference (That's you Ellie)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life in the circle continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [EllsterSMASH](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllsterSMASH) is the best human to grace this earth & I am so in awe of your talents! Everyone go read her stuff! 
> 
> And thanks to EVERYONE who comments, kudos, or just is reading this in general! You're the greatest!

Solona stared at the great arched doorway looming before her. In the confusion of the morning, she'd allowed herself to forget the most important piece of last night: Sweeney somehow knew about her meetings with Cullen. In the morning light, his actions still didn't make much sense. On the one hand, he hadn't seemed to disapprove, and in fact he might have been encouraging. But was it genuine? How long had he known? Why not mention it earlier?

The seconds ticked by, but the door remained solid and unchanging. It had no answers to give her. Maker she hadn't been this nervous in years.

' _I_ _t_ _'s just Sweeney, come on. You know he's on your side. You haven't done anything really wrong after all, so just go! There's no use wasting more time. You'll only add annoyance to the mix,'_ she told herself, gathering the courage to push through the door.

It creaked as it swung open, and there he was: arms crossed and foot already tapping. Solona froze, feeling every inch a fly in a web. Sweeney raised a single eyebrow, and looked pointedly at the spot she should have filled at least eight minutes ago.

"I'm sorry! I have a message for you from Cu-, Ser Cullen." She held out the note in a stiff fist, mimicking Cullen's earlier delivery.

Both Sweeney's eyebrows raised. "Already? Quite the workhorse, isn't he? Well, go on! What does it say?"

"I, um." Her hands shook a little as she unfurled the list. Maker's breath, could she just relax? "I-It's a list of literature. On astronomy. He thought that space might work as a visualization aide for the void."

Sweeney snorted derision. "More visualization? I thought you’d finally decided to branch out. You aren't doing yourself any favors. But, if you think it's worth another go I won't stop you."

He stepped forward and took the list, scanning it. "Most of these are in the first floor library. Let's go now. I could use the stretch after standing around all morning waiting for you." He tossed the paper back to her and strode out the door.

Despite his smaller stature, Solona struggled to keep up with the Senior Enchanter's dogged pace through the halls. He greeted a few templars as they walked. Based on the twinkle in his eye and the jaunt in his step, she had to assume that he was calling them the wrong names on purpose, or perhaps there was some hidden meaning she was missing. There were no "Ser Richards," "Peters," or "Johnsons" that she'd heard of.

When they reached the library, the books were fairly easy to find. Cullen had left them conveniently stacked together on a shelf, ever thoughtful and considerate. She smiled and ran a finger over the orderly spines, ever the fool.

Sweeney snorted behind her. Solona jerked her hand away and whipped around. She knew her eyes were wide, and a flush was burning up her neck. Must she look so guilty all the time? Maker's mercy, she was in deep enough as it was.  

But her mentor merely shook his head and gestured to the books. "We don't have all day to waste! Grab them and we'll go."

Solona piled the tomes haphazardly in her arms and followed him towards the doors.

"Um.." She started hesitantly.

"Yes, Apprentice?" Sweeney asked.

"I, um..."

He sighed loudly. "Come on. Out with it girl!"

"I-It's about last night, Ser."

He scowled before turning up the stairs.

"I mean, Senior Enchanter!" she corrected, following him. "Sorry, I mean... Maker's breath... _ugh_ , of all the useless..." she muttered, bruising her toes in the corners of the steps.

Heaving another sigh, Sweeney cut her off. "You were struggling to remember when exactly I had suggested that you begin using templars as an academic resource?"

"I, um.. Well, yes."

"Yes, Senior Enchanter," he corrected, winking at her. Solona knew the jab meant she wasn't in any real trouble, but the tension in her chest refused to abandon its roost.

"How old are you, girl?" he asked.

"I... Oh! Um..." She scrambled to keep up with his rapid change of pace. "I turned 17 this Cloudreach, Senior Enchanter."

He smiled and tweaked an aberrant lock of her hair. "Just so. It's as it should be, you know. Youth is exactly the time to disregard the status quo, push boundaries, take up with the wrong crowd!" he crowed.

She frowned and shook her head emphatically. "But it's not like that. He would never-"

Sweeney's laugh echoed with their steps in the now-deserted hallway. "Of course it isn't like that! There are no real secrets in the circle, none that last long anyway. There's no law against communication, exchange of ideas, even seeing each other as human, despite what some may tell you." He shook his head, sobering. "No. There are no laws against things like that. Mutual respect, admiration, collaboration. These are all good things, and it's a shame, but in the world we live in, a certain amount of privacy may have become necessary for such things to flourish.

"However," he added with a pointed glare, " _Privacy_ is entirely different from _secrecy_. True danger lies not in doing something that might not be appropriate for the whole tower to see, but rather in thinking that you're getting away with something. That's how temptation starts, you know. You think you're putting one over on someone, you're special, you're smarter. Well, get it through your head quick, girl, you're not! There's nothing that goes on in this tower that someone somewhere doesn't already know about."

"Yes, Senior Enchanter," Solona whispered, praying the column of books would push her straight through the floor.

"What's that?" Sweeney barked.

Solona cleared her throat and looked him in the eye. "Y-yes, Senior Enchanter." It was still unsteady, but at least it was full volume.

Sweeney shook his head, exasperated. "Come on girl, do you listen to a word I say? There's no harm done. Maker knows this place could use more cross faction cooperation! You've just got to stop thinking it's some big secret. Now, I wouldn't go shouting about it across the commons either, but you've got a good brain under that nest. You'll figure it out."

As they turned into the practice room, he squeezed her shoulder and lifted one of the books from her arms. "Now, I don't suppose Ser Cullen was clever enough to mark down which pages we need?"

Solona shook her head, speechless and reeling. She couldn't push too far past the threading whisper of relief: ' _He won't make me stop_.'

"No? Well I suppose everyone has their faults. Let's get started. We've already wasted half the day!"

Not ten minutes later, she beamed at Sweeney, barely repressing a second shriek of joy that would only send the Templars dashing from their posts.

"Don't get too excited yet. Once more to prove you've got it down, and then we'll call it a success," he grouched, but he was fighting a grin of his own.

Obediently, she closed her eyes, reached out for her magic and, ' _Darkness, silence, the nothing. No air, no light, just still. Cool and empty. A void.'_

She opened her eyes and Sweeney clapped, finally allowing the twitch at the edge of his mouth to crinkle and match his eyes.

"I can't say who's happier, you or me," he joked as the magic's glow dimmed and disappeared.

"Surely you," Solona teased back, emboldened by success. "After all you've been doing this at least three times as long as I have."

"You're not wrong!" He cackled and nodded to the door. "Consider yourself free to go. There's an easel with my name on it that won't wait another minute."

She frowned, searching for the trick in his eyes. Sweeney had never just let her go early, not without some kind of extra work.

"Don't look at me like that. Do you think I have time to entertain you seven days a week? I've earned at least the afternoon off after everything you've put me through!" He jerked his head and she followed him through the door in mollified, if curious, silence.

When they reached the Enchanters’ dorms he squeezed her shoulder again. "You've done well, you know? You'll make a half-decent mage yet. Grab that bag, would you?"

She obliged as he removed the sheet from his easel to reveal a half-finished watercolor.

"What is it?" she asked.

"A gift for my granddaughter." He smiled and began to pull brushes from the bag.

"Um," Solona began again.

Sweeney rolled his eyes. "Come now Apprentice, surely we're past that."

"Sorry, Senior Enchanter. I just, um. I thought we... I thought families weren't allowed? D-did you have a family before you came here?"

He barked a laugh. "No, I did not! You're not quite correct. Mages aren't allowed to have families _within_ the circle. However, if someone outside of the circle will take on responsibility for the children, families are technically within regulation. Of course, that part is a little easier for men than for women, I'm afraid. No one ever said it was fair. Still, if that's something you want, there are options for you."

He turned abruptly. "As long as they're _outside_ of the circle."

"Of course, Senior Enchanter." Any other thought was madness.

"Now if you're quite done digging through Chantry loopholes today, I'd like some peace and quiet. Close the door on the way out would you?"

Dismissed and free, Solona skipped out the door. Wednesday was waiting!

But when she got to the research library, Cullen wasn't there. Another knight stood in his place. Squelching a kernel of worry, she pretended to peruse the shelves for one agonizing hour before she allowed herself to flee the scene. She kept replaying Sweeney's words, attempting to reassure herself. Cullen was probably just tired. He couldn't have gotten much sleep if he had gone looking for books after walking her back and still managed to find her in the morning.

Jowan. She would find Jowan and he would help everything make sense.

Yet, she couldn't find him in any of the greenhouses. None of the apprentices could tell her where he might be either. On autopilot, she turned back towards the library, only to turn back around when she remembered the templar-who-was-not-Cullen stationed there. In a haze, she meandered between floors like an ant that had lost its trail.

"Solona!" A voice interrupted her blind march.

When she looked up, Rena, one of the mages who guided the younger children before their apprenticeship stood before her.

"Hi!" Solona squeaked, too brightly to be believed. Thankfully Rena was incurably cheerful herself and rarely noticed Solona's false notes.

"I'm glad I caught you. Did old Sweeney give you a break at last? The kids have missed you!"

Solona smiled, relief melting over her worry. It was moments like this that she loved her home. You could never get too lost here. There was always someone somewhere who needed something done.

"Yeah, just the afternoon though," she replied. "I've missed them too. How are things down here? I heard we got a new one a few months back?"

"Yeah, a boy." Rena shook her head. "He's not doing so well. He's twelve, and honestly, he's not adjusting well. Terrified of nightmares. Some asshat told him mages get possessed whenever we sleep. I tried to explain that if that were true everyone would've been possessed a long time ago, but it kind of backfired." She cringed.

Solona nodded sympathetically. Everyone's first year was hard, and the older you were, the more years of misinformation you had to work through.

"Any friends yet?,” she asked. “What's his name?"

"Kedrick, and no. He's a quiet one, kind of retreated into himself. The lack of sleep really isn't helping matters."

"Where's he from?"

"I can't say specifically, but they found him somewhere in the Frostback Basin." Rena grimaced.

"Poor thing." Solona said, "He's probably so homesick."

"Oh! Wait this is perfect!" Rena clapped. "Why don't you come do a walkthrough? He won't know you of course, but the other kids will love it even if he doesn't join in."

"It has been a while. Either way, you're right. It'll be good for him to hear the visualization. I'll see if I can draw him out."

"Andraste bless, you're the Maker's own Solona! I've got to fetch some healing balm. One of the girls singed herself at breakfast and I don't want it to blister. You'll be good for ten minutes or so?"

"Of course!" Solona smiled, genuinely grateful for the distraction.

She walked into the children's dorms to find a kind of quiet chaos. At least thirty kids of varying ages were scattered to all corners of the room. Some were reading, some climbing their bunks. A few seemed to be playing some kind of projectile-based game of tag.

"Solona!" A girl trotted up holding the hand of a young child of maybe six years.

"Maggie!" Solona beamed at her. "What are you guys up to today?"

"We were playing. What are you doing?"

"Well, I just ran into Rena outside, and she told me that I had been missing out on a lot around here." She crouched down and spoke to the youngest girl. "And Helen, it's been a while since we've talked. Anything new?"

Helen grinned and pointed to a gap in her teeth.

"Oh wow!" Solona marveled. "Any wiggly ones?"

Helen nodded, but Maggie jumped in first. "Yeah, she's got two on the bottom that are starting to come loose. I figure they've got another few weeks before they really start moving though."

"Mhmm." Solona nodded sagely. "And I hear we've got a new boy as well?"

"Oh, yeah," Maggie said. "He doesn't talk too much. He said some mean stuff to Marnie the other day so we've been giving him some space to cool off."

"Mean? Well that's not very good. Do you think maybe there's a reason he might not be feeling well? Do you remember what it felt like when you came here?"

"Well..." Maggie thought about it. "I guess he might be feeling scared. Or maybe sad."

"Worried," Helen chimed in.

Solona nodded. "Yeah, I remember feeling that way sometimes too. But I also remember doing a map walk would usually help me feel a little better. What do you think?"

Maggie lit up and Helen clapped her hands.

"Yeah! Yeah!" Maggie cried. "Oh that'll be great! Are you going to do one now? Please Solona, _please!_ "

She laughed. "Okay, okay. Here's what we're going to do. You go invite him and I'll go get set up over by the window. I think that since this will be his first one, he should get to choose. Okay?"

"Definitely!" Maggie nodded. "Come on Helen, let's go!"

The girls scampered off and Solona stood, moving towards the shelves. The atlases were heavy but valuable, so they kept them out of reach of the little ones.

Hefting the book from the ledge, Solona found some space on the couch and flipped through the pages. Soon more kids began to pile around her. A few called greetings, but most just settled into place and looked up expectantly.

"He didn't want to come," Maggie whispered as she wriggled into a spot at Solona’s side. Helen nodded, already snuggled into Maggie's arms.

"That's okay," Solona replied. "Maybe he'll join us when he's feeling better." The boy had turned his back on the group and huddled into a seat across the room. The shock of blonde hair poking out over the edge of the chair brought back a vision of Anders when he'd first arrived. It nearly took her breath away. She took the moment to send a prayer, ' _Andraste watch over him, wherever he is_.'

Rallying, she turned to the group. "Alright guys, where should we go today?" she asked.

She smiled when she was hit by a wave of requests, each shouted louder than the last.

"Nevarra! Val Royeaux! Denerim! Wycome!" they cried.

She laughed. "Alright, alright. Well since you can't come to a decision, I think we'll just have to let my finger decide." She closed her eyes and waved her hand with a flourish, but peeked at the last second, landing on a point near the mountains. "Looks like the Frostback Basin! Has anyone ever been there?"

Most shook their heads.

"I've been to the Frostback mountains!" one boy called.

"Well, this is a very different place," she said, closing her eyes and lifting her hands as she felt the fade brush her consciousness.

"You are standing at the edge of a forest. The thick trunks of the trees reach far up into the sky, so far you can barely see them. It takes you four large steps to pass by the first set of roots. There is grass on the ground, and colored leaves, fallen from the branches above. No one is here in this forest, but the air is warm and humid. You feel comfortable and safe.

“Birds caw in the canopy but you cannot see them. As you walk, you hear a trickling sound. You turn and begin to follow it. A river opens up before you. It is wide but shallow with many colors of seaweed poking out from its rippling surface. You keep walking.

“The trees begin to clear. Ahead of you, the river pours into a wide flat bay bordered with fine brown sand. The waves are small and quiet, reflecting the pale blue clouds that dot the sky. You walk along the beach for a while before returning to follow the river. You keep walking, stepping over leaves and smooth stones. To your left you hear a noise, there is an animal waiting near the bank. It doesn't see you yet, but you would not mind if it did. You are safe here. You stop and watch it for a minute-"

"Tusket," called a low voice.

Solona opened her eyes. Kedrick stood just outside the edge of the group, looking mortified.

"Yes, that's right." She smiled warmly at him. "A tusket. What are they like?"

"Erm," the boy mumbled. "They're about ye high. Big buggers, but they won' hurt ye none."

"What color are they?" she asked.

"All kinds I suppose. But mostly grey with spots all up the back. Big tusks too. Dunno what they're for, they only et the grass."

The other kids started to squirm, wanting to get back to the visions. "Do you want to try so we can see?" Solona offered.

"Don' know," Kedrick said worming his toes under the edge of the carpet.

"It's easy, really. Just grab Mikey's hand there, he'll help. Now just close your eyes and try to _see_ a tusket, right in front of you. Sometimes talking helps us focus, but since you already know what you want to see, you don't have to."

Michael, a kind and quiet boy, took Kedrick's hand and pulled the boy to sit with him on the floor. Everyone closed their eyes, and reached back until they felt the barest glimmer of the Fade. An image of a large lumbering mammal crossed their minds. It sniffed and pawed at the ground beneath its feet, lifting its horned snout into the air, its whiskers twitching in search of more grubs.

"Excellent work, boys," Solona praised, breaking the image. "Do you want to give leading a try?"

Kedrick shook his head, but didn't move from his spot.

' _Baby steps_.' Solona smiled, pleased he'd joined at all. "Alright. Well I think my turn might be over. Is there anyone else who wants a turn leading?"

Several hands raised high into the air, but a yank at her skirt turned her head. Maggie ceased her tugging and nodded towards Helen, whose hand was scarcely raised, her eyes glued to her lap.

"Helen, do you want to try?" Solona asked gently. The girl's wide eyes shot up. She nodded emphatically.

"Okay then! Maggie, could you help her with the book?" Solona asked.

"Absolutely!" Maggie sprung into action, pulling Helen and the book into her lap. "Now where do we want to go today Hel?"

Solona tiptoed out past the edges of the group, noting that Kedrick hadn't moved from Michael's side. ' _Good_ ,' she thought. He would need a friend. Without friends in the circle, mages simply couldn't survive.

"Psssst!" a voice hissed from a nearby bunk. Jowan smirked at her from behind a wooden post. "It's been a while since I've seen a walkthrough. What's with the new kid?"

"The usual. You know, nightmares, trouble adjusting," she whispered, nodding to Rena as they left the room. "Rena thought it would be a good idea to start introducing him to visualization control."

"Right, right. She told me you were in here.” He pouted. “You know, if you had an afternoon free you should've come to find me."

"I tried!" she exclaimed, aghast. "I couldn't find you anywhere in the gardens!"

"What?" Jowan looked confused for a moment, but then, "Oh no, that's right. I got called in to help someone... With medical prep, in the store room! Maker it was awful. The most boring work of my life. I don't see how anyone can stand it."

"Smelly too." She wrinkled her nose.

"Shut up!" He nudged her a little harder than necessary, sending her tripping over the cobbles. She came up laughing and he ruffled her hair. "You're the worst, you know that?"

She gave his arm a little squeeze and retreated to a templar-approved distance. "It was so nostalgic hanging out with the kids. You should see Maggie and Helen now, they're just like us back then."

"Yeah?" He scoffed. "Is Helen always running around trying to order the templars to take her home?"

Solona giggled. "Maybe not quite like that, but Maggie still jumps at her beck and call."

"Well someone has to look after you little rascals." He grinned. "Come on, it's almost supper and I know you're just dying to see what the cooks could have possibly prepared. Do you think it's stew, or stew?"

Solona beamed. "I think I'll be optimistic and hope for mashed potatoes _with_ my stew. I’ll race you,” she said, already running. “Loser has to clear!"

After their meal, Jowan begged off, claiming unfinished work. "If Leorah hears that I left the stockroom a mess I'll never hear the end of it."

"I could help if you want," Solona offered.

"Ugh no way, that stockroom is already stifling. I can't imagine having two people in there, it'd be unbearable!"

So she turned her feet to the Chantry. Cullen was still nowhere to be found and there really wasn't much else she could do but wait until he turned up. In the meantime, she would hope it was a fluke and pray the universe aligned with her thoughts.

Evening mass was always a little more crowded. The lay-sisters hovered in the background as Mother Elise guided them through the hymns. But there was something to be said for the effect of candlelight in the dark chapel. It made the words come easy.

' _Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood the Maker's will is written._ '

Climbing into bed that night, her hair finally free of the knots she'd ignored this morning, Solona felt more peaceful than she had in a long time. ' _Thank you Maker, for everything. I am so blessed,_ ' she prayed as she drifted into dreams.

"Apprentice, Apprentice!" a hand shook her awake.

"Wha?" she groaned, then saw the gleam of a helm. "Go away. You aren't wanted here,"

She tried to roll back over, but the gauntlet gripping her arm would not let her go.

"Apprentice. We must go now!"

Half dragged from the bed, the guard gave her just enough time to slip her shoes on.

"What's going on?" she asked the templar.

"Come, Apprentice, they're waiting."

She climbed the stairs flanked by two knights. Twice they had to catch her when she stumbled on the steps and her shaking hands couldn't grasp the safety rail.

Neither would answer her questions. Solona's mind was racing at dizzying speeds. She felt sick. Was it Cullen after all? Was Sweeney hurt? Had she done something wrong during the map walk earlier? Maybe something had happened while she slept, she'd let some magic leak out of the Fade.

The templars climbed in silence. They paused in front of a door Solona had scarcely noticed before, one always guarded but never opened. But they opened it, for her, then guided her up the stairs and into a great circular chamber.

She spotted Irving first, then Cullen, and her heart swooped and fell all at once. His sword was drawn, but at rest, and Greagoir was standing between them.

Greagoir stepped forward. "Magic exists to serve man, but never to rule over him."

He kept talking, the familiar words of the chant mere background noise to her panic. Solona searched the room for clues. Cullen was tense, but didn't seem angry. Irving was harder to read with his eyes trained on Greagoir, his face hidden by his beard. His hands were loose at his sides.

No immediate danger then, but what?

' _Where is Sweeney?_ ' she thought. If he was here, he wouldn't leave her in the dark.

"Your magic is a gift, but also a curse," Greagoir continued. "For demons of the Fade, the dream realm, are drawn to you and seek to use you as a gateway into this world."

Irving stepped forward, "This is why the harrowing exists." The rest of his sentence was drowned in a rush of relief. ' _Andraste bless,_ ' she sent skyward. Not in trouble, and no one hurt.

Before she could settle though, Greagoir's next words caught her: "It will turn you into an abomination."

Irving stepped forward and gestured to a pedestal at the center of the room. "Lyrium is the very essence of magic, and your gateway to the Fade."

He leaned in close, his gravely tones soothing in their familiarity. "The harrowing is a secret out of necessity, child. Every mage must go through this trial by fire. As we succeeded, so shall you, _if_ you keep your wits about you and remember: the Fade is a realm of dreams. The spirits may rule it, but your own will is real."

She nodded and swallowed, praying she didn't look as scared as she felt.

Greagoir broke in, "The apprentice must go through this test alone, First Enchanter. You are ready." He gestured again to the pedestal.

Solona walked towards the dais, nerves strung tight. ' _If the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter say I'm ready, I guess I must be_ ,' she told herself. But when she reached the pedestal she was at a loss.

She looked back at Irving. "What do I...?"

"Place your hand in the liquid, child, it will send you into the Fade," he counseled.

She whirled around. "You want me to _touch_ raw lyrium? Are you insane?"

Irving chuckled. "Just a touch won't hurt you, girl. A mage's body is built for magic. We can handle contact when others may not be able to."

Drawing her courage from the steady presence of the men she trusted, she turned back to the glowing pool and brought her fingers to its surface.

She would deny it to her last breath, but as she slipped across the boundary, her last thought was, ' _Maker if I die today, pray I don't look foolish_.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Points for those who got Sweeney's penis jokes :)
> 
> Also [this post by lavellanlin](https://lavellanlin.tumblr.com/post/176136152170) is an amazing accompaniment to the visualization scene!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You knew it was coming....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always a billion trillion thank you's to the angel of my heart [EllsterSMASH](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllsterSMASH) the best ever future Editor in Chief and current "official" beta as long as she'll put up with my years long chapters <3 <3 <3 YOU'RE THE GREATEST!

Solona's dreams were fitful.

Or were they memories? Different bits and pieces of the trial floated into focus, but never fully materialized. Everything seemed... blurry. There were twisted spires of mottled earth, sleepy spined bears, and a man. No, that wasn't right. First he was a mouse, whose voice held a malevolence that sent prickles crawling up her spine.

"Solona, say something, please!" Jowan's voice cut through the shifting images.

She sat up too fast, blinking at the firm edges of reality.

"They carried you in this morning," he said, helping her out of her bunk.

Had it been so long? It felt like minutes. Perhaps time changed in the fade as well.

"Is it really that dangerous? What was it like?" Jowan was asking.

She struggled. It was hard to keep her thoughts in order over the echoing sounds of footsteps and far-off conversations. Reality was so _loud_.

"It was... harrowing," she managed after a moment.   

"I know I'm not supposed to know what happens... but we're friends. Just a little hint and I'll stop asking, I promise!" Jowan begged.

"I had to enter the fade," she said.

She yawned and reveled in her lungs' expansion. You couldn't breathe in the fade, the air wasn't real. She wanted to lay on the floor, to push down on the solid stone, cool and smooth beneath her hands.

"Really? That's it?" Jowan asked.

"No," she said slowly. "You're awake, so it's a little different. There's a demon, and if it possesses you, they kill you."

She rubbed her forehead, which had begun to throb as she got her bearings. "It's not so different than sleeping really, but the raw fade is... very strange."

"That makes sense," he said. "They want to see if you can resist a demon and stop yourself from becoming an abomination."

He pouted and turned away. "And now you get to move into the nice mages' quarters upstairs. I'm stuck here and I don't know _when_ they'll call me for my harrowing."

"It'll be any day now, I'm sure of it," Solona reassured him. "Nothing will change, I promise. I don't want to leave either."

She frowned. She hoped it was true. What if they put her on a different meal schedule?  

"But I've been here longer than you have," Jowan whined. "It's not fair!"

Maker, she would miss him if they were separated. Who would she sit with? But no, she'd find a way. Solona without Jowan was unthinkable.

"Maybe you're just not ready yet," she suggested.

"I've been ready for a long time!" he insisted, glancing between her and the door. "I'm afraid they don't want me to take the test."

Solona's frown deepened. Ready for a long time? Jowan had barely mastered the frost spells before Uldred left. Maybe she could talk to Irving about changing his mentor.

"You do the harrowing, the rite of tranquility, or you die. That's what happens," Jowan continued.

"They're not going to kill you, Jowan," she said, irritation creeping into her voice.

She cringed and waited for his reprimand, but he didn’t even notice.

"They might not, but the rite of tranquillity is just as bad, maybe worse," he said. "You've seen the tranquil around the tower. Like Owain in the stockroom. He's so cold. No, not even cold. There's just... nothing in him. It's like he's dead but still walking. His voice, his eyes are lifeless."

"I'm sure it's fine. You're reading too much into it."

It was the wrong thing to say.

Jowan shut down. "I shouldn't waste your time with this," he said, walking towards the door. "I was supposed to tell you to see Irving as soon as you woke up."   

She wanted to call him back, apologize at least, but there was no point when he got like this.

"Where is he?" she asked.

"His room probably," Jowan tossed back as he stalked into the hall.

She stood, pressing her nails into the palms of her hands. He would come back. He always did, but his face... He'd been really upset, she should have listened better.

Two bunks over, someone whispered, "Cullen," and her unease spiked. She crept towards the voices, keeping out of sight.

"He says she's very talented and brave." Elise whispered.

"Well he would, wouldn't he," Hannah snipped.

Solona's stomach turned. Was _everyone_ talking about it now? Maker, and he'd been there last night. She'd met Greagoir's eyes after she'd spotted him. Had that knowing look been about Cullen? Is that what Irving wanted to speak about? Her hands twisted themselves into fists in her skirt as she moved through the halls.

Turning a corner past the stairs, she froze. Cullen stood in front of the mages' quarters. No helmet, and it was Thursday. He should've already left the docks to go on leave. Why was he here?

She tried to smooth her wrinkled robe as she approached him.

"Oh, um, h-hello. I... uh, am glad to see your harrowing went smoothly," he said. Creases marked his brow and purple shadows stood out against his skin. Maker, had he slept?

"Hello," she said carefully, glancing around the hall.

"Th-they picked me as the templar to strike the killing blow if... if you became an abomination. I-it's nothing personal; I swear!" he stuttered.  

She blinked. Did he think she was upset?

"I... uh, I'm just glad you're all right. You know," he finished.

What did she know? If she'd failed she'd have been an abomination. Killing her would be no more than avenging her murder. Perhaps he was worried he couldn't have gone through with it?

"Would you really have struck me down?" she asked.

Cullen seemed to relax. "I would've felt terrible about it... But I serve the Chantry and the Maker, and I will do as I am commanded." He spoke confidently, no stammering.

She nodded. Good.

' _Remember your place, Apprentice_.' Greagoir’s words rang in her ears. It was clear now that Cullen's placement had been no accident. It had served as both a test for him, and a reprimand for her.

Fortunately, they both had passed, but the fact that he had been tested at all was wrong. Cullen was the last man who should ever fall under scrutiny. She had to be more careful in the future.

"I shouldn't distract you from your duties," she said.

"Oh, you're not distracting," he said. "I mean, you are but.... well you're not. I mean you can talk to me anytime if you want." He rubbed the back of his neck.

His cheeks were pink, whether from fatigue or nerves and his hair had been hastily combed. A few curls had sprung loose, he looked like he had just woken from a nap. He smiled and every inch of tension melted out of her body.

Maker, she was weak.

"Why are you still here?" she asked.

"Oh. I uh, I waited. I'll take the boat at noon."

He was so good. Who else would postpone their time off to stand waiting in an empty hall to check on someone after working all night? She had to go. She couldn't let herself keep him any longer.

"I see. Enjoy your leave then," she said, forcing herself to inch towards the stairs.

"Uh... uh, yes. Maybe we can talk another time," he said.

She fled before she could give in and trap him there for another minute. They had passed their tests. As long as they followed the rules and stayed out of public perception, there were hundreds of days they could talk in the future.

She burst into the First Enchanter's room; Cullen thought she was brave, so she would be brave. She would solve her issue with Jowan, make sure they were on the same schedule, and leave with her head held high.

However, as she entered the room, she found an argument already in full swing. Greagoir and a strange man were discussing the army's preparations for Ostagar. Solona tapped her foot impatiently.

When he spotted her, Greagoir called a halt to the discussion and left. Solona nodded to him as he passed, meeting his eyes, and he returned the gesture. ' _Brave!'_ she thought. ' _If only Cullen could see me now._ '

After a cursory greeting, Irving officially welcomed Solona to the circle. She accepted her staff and ring gratefully, but when she asked to speak with him, he suggested that she show the stranger, a Grey Warden, to his room. She reluctantly agreed and guided him there as quickly as possible.  

When they reached his quarters, the Warden thanked her. She barely managed to nod in her haste to get out the door. Her plans could not wait!

Instead, she found Jowan waiting in the hall.

"Solona," he called. "I'm glad I caught up with you. Are you done talking with Irving?"

So they were friends again? Solona hadn't even opened her mouth to reply before he continued.

"I need to talk to you. Do you remember what we discussed this morning?"

"Of course I do," she said, frowning. "That's what I'm trying to-"

"We should go somewhere else," he cut her off. "I don't feel safe talking here."

"Wait," she said, studying his face. There was something frenetic in his gaze, his whole body was practically twitching. "You're really starting to worry me, Jowan."

"I've been troubled... I'll explain. Come with me, please." He turned and Solona followed as best she could.

He didn't slow his dogged pace once to see if she was with him. Whatever was happening, it was serious. They stopped in a small enclave of the chantry.

"We should be safe here," he said.

"In the chantry?" Solona asked, incredulous, as a female initiate walked up and stood next to Jowan.

The initiate nodded and said, "We can see the door from here. If anyone comes in we'll change the subject."

"Who are you?" Solona asked, totally thrown. "Jowan, what's going on?"

He shuffled and looked to the initiate before beginning. "A few months ago, I told you that I... met a girl. This is Lily."

 _What?_ Solona reeled. A few months? No he hadn't, she would have remembered. Oh Maker, unless he had and she'd been too distracted to notice? But no, she would never have missed something this big, or this stupid!

"An initiate?" she hissed. "That's forbidden! Are you insane?"

"So, you can see why we wish to keep it a secret," Lily replied.

"If anyone finds out, we'll both be in trouble," Jowan said, like it wasn't the most obvious thing in the world.

"And you'll only have yourselves to blame!" Solona accused. "What were you thinking?"

"I won't give Lily up for anything!" Jowan said and set his jaw. Solona wanted to kick him in the shins. Must he always be so childish?

She pinched the bridge of her nose. At least he'd told her _now_. Maybe there was some way to salvage the situation without too much damage done.

"So what is this all about?" she asked.

"Remember I said that I didn't think they wanted to give me my harrowing?" Jowan asked, drilling into her with his eyes. "I know why. They're going to make me tranquil. They'll take everything from me, my dreams, hopes, fears... my love for Lily. All gone..." He spoke quickly, like each line had been rehearsed. "They'll extinguish my humanity. I'll just be a husk, breathing and existing, but not truly living."

"What? Why would they do that?" Solona floundered. "There must be some mistake. They wouldn't. They don't just turn people tranquil, Jowan, we would have seen it."

Jowan hesitated.

"There's... a rumour about me," he said. "People think I'm a blood mage. They think that making me a circle mage will endanger everyone."

"What?" Solona laughed. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Who told you that?"

Lily spoke. "I saw the document on Greagoir's table. It authorized the rite on Jowan, and Irving had signed it."

Solona shook her head. None of this made sense. Something had to be wrong, it was simply beyond belief.

She turned to Jowan. "It'll be all right," she said. "They're wrong! We'll explain, we'll fix it."

"No it won't be all right!" he seethed. "They're going to destroy me! I won't put Lily through the pain of seeing me like that."

A tiny whisper of a thought rose through the swirling chaos in her head, ' _Lily? What about me?_ '

"W-what are you going to do?" she asked. Maker, she was shaking.

"I need to escape. I need to destroy my phylactery. Without it they can't track us down." He spoke firmly, his eyes burning with fierce determination. "We need your help. Lily and I can't do this on our own."

"What? You can't _run away_!" she exclaimed. Even if the rumors did exist, there had to be a way to prove them wrong. "We'll just explain it! They'll listen, you'll see," she said.

"No!" he cried. "If we tell anyone, Lily will be punished. If you care about what happens to me, help us!"

"I..." There was too much, she couldn't keep her thoughts in order. ' _So what if Lily is punished? For what? For looking at a paper? For not wanting you to become tranquil?_ ' Everyone knew the chantry was soft on the initiates. ' _Wouldn't it be better to take a small punishment and save his life_?'

"Solona, please!" Jowan grabbed her hand.

She stared at their entwined fingers. How many times had she reached for him in fear, loneliness, or just the joy of his company? Even at 6 years old,the strength of his grip had promised safety and home.

Was there anything she could deny him?

"Okay." She took a deep breath and nodded. "What are we going to do?"

"Thank you,” Lily said. “We will never forget this."

Solona clenched her teeth against the flash of anger that rose against the girl and kept her gaze on the ground. ' _For Jowan,_ ' she told herself.

The initiate continued. "I can get us into the repository, but there is a problem. There are two locks on the phylactery chamber door. The First Enchanter and Knight Commander each hold one key... But it is just a door. There is power enough in this place to destroy all of Ferelden. What's a door to mages?"

It was such a stupid question Solona couldn't help but scoff. She turned to Jowan expecting to see him rolling his eyes, only to see him nodding along enthusiastically, his face glowing. ' _Maker's mercy, love make fools of us,_ ' she thought.

"It can't be that easy,"  she said, speaking slowly as she did to the children. "What if it's warded?"

"What if it isn't?" Jowan asked. "We have to try! I once saw a rod of fire melt through a lock. You could get one from the stockroom, but Owain doesn't release such things to apprentices." His eyes flicked back and forth between the initiate and the door.

Prickles raced up her spine for the second time that day. He _hadn't_ told her about Lily, she was nearly sure now. They'd never kept things from each other before, why now?

Just how long had they been working on this plan? How many days had he been hiding this from her? How many breakfasts had he sat across from her and _lied_?

But his warm brown eyes found hers as they had every day of her life in this tower. If she couldn't trust Jowan who was left for her?

"Okay," she said and swallowed.

Lily spoke again. "We should stay here. One mage at the stockroom will attract less attention than a mage, an apprentice, and an initiate."

Solona looked at Jowan, but he stayed silent, nodding along with Lily.

"Good idea," Solona said woodenly.

Lily smiled and said, "Good luck. Our prayers go with you." Jowan beamed.

Solona left the chantry in a daze. Her hand grazed the statue of Andraste as she passed it. ' _Blessed Lady, grant me guidance_ ,' she prayed.

Jowan wanted to escape. He wanted to leave the circle. ' _To leave me,'_ her mind cried. It was the only thing he said that rang true. The rumors, the tranquility, none of it made sense, but the look in his eyes when he talked about escape...

Maker, he was going to get them in so much trouble. ' _Maybe it will be okay,'_ she thought. ' _Anders escaped at least three times before he vanished and they just brought him back and gave him a guard.'_

That wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Still, she worried. _'What if he gets hurt as they're bringing him back?_ '

Maybe she could head him off. If she talked to Irving, cleared up the misunderstandings about the blood magic and tranquility, then maybe Jowan would relax long enough to listen to reason.

She remembered how he looked at Lily. She'd never seen him look at anyone that way before. ' _Is that what I look like with Cullen?'_ she wondered. ' _He won't want to leave her_.'

But Lily was only an initiate, and would have to move on eventually. The Chantry didn't keep them in one place for long. Maybe if she left the Chantry and Jowan kept his nose clean for a few years, he could get a posting near her. Then they could follow in Sweeney's footsteps.

' _Maker, if they could just be patient,_ ' she prayed, knowing full well it might be in vain. Jowan had never been patient.

Sweeney! If only she could find him he would know what to do. She looked in every room she passed, but he was nowhere to be found. And she couldn't waste any more time.

She entered the First Enchanter's chambers to find Irving just where she left him.

"I trust you showed Duncan to his room?" the old mage creaked.

"Of course, First Enchanter."

"I'm glad you met him. He's a most honorable man," Irving continued.

"I need to speak to you about something," Solona said, stopping him before he could delve into one of his infamous tangents.

"Certainly." He chuckled. "What is on your mind?"

"When is Jowan going through the harrowing?" she demanded.

"When he is ready.”

"He fears he is going to be made tranquil.”

"And how does he know this?" Irving rumbled. "I suppose the young initiate he dallies about with revealed it to him."

Solona froze.

"You think I didn't know?" he said. "I did not become First Enchanter by keeping my eyes and ears shut."

"You mean it's true?" She gaped at him. "How? You can't! Why would you do this?"

"Greagoir says he has proof--an eyewitness testimony--that Jowan has been practicing blood magic. I cannot say more." He sighed. "Were it left to me, things might be different. But the Chantry... I'm sorry, child. This rite of tranquility will happen."

"But it's a lie!" she burst out. "It must be!"

"Hush child," he admonished. "You know little of this, and I ask you to hold your tongue."

"But it's wrong! They're trying to run away over this. How can you allow such an injustice?"

"Oh?" The First Enchanter narrowed his eyes. "Interesting. What more do you know?"

Solona flushed hot and cold all at once. "I-I..."

"Go on child," he said. "Maybe some good can come of this yet."  

"I... They're planning to destroy his phylactery," she whispered. ' _Maker tell me I haven't made this worse,_ ' she pleaded.

"Yes, the girl must be helping him. She would know more about the repository than he would. Do you know anything else?"

"No..." she murmured to the floor. "I came directly to you."

"I suspected Lily would tell him of the impending rite if she found out. But I never expected they would have the gall to break into the repository."

"What will you do?" she asked. Her voice had never sounded so small.

"Reporting him to Greagoir and the templars will accomplish nothing beyond what's already planned. If the Circle must punish one of its own, I will see the Chantry done the same courtesy. Lily will not walk free while my apprentice suffers."

"She's just trying to save the man she loves!" she protested.

"She is also breaking every vow she ever took," Irving snapped back.

"Will... Will you tell the Knight Commander?" Solona asked.

"If we mention her involvement, the Chantry will say that she was framed. No, she must be caught in the act."

"The Chantry protects all of us," she insisted. "All the Maker's children."

Irving shook his head. "If you want to survive, you must learn the rules and realize that sometimes, sacrifices are necessary. Jowan will become tranquil, but Lily must also face the consequences of her actions. How did you learn of their plan? Do they trust you?"

Everything in Solona rebelled. "Yes!" she snapped. "They trust me to help them, I promised. There must be another way."

Irving stroked his beard.

"Go. Convince them you will risk all for their cause," he said. "I will be outside the repository with a contingent of templars. Let them see the mischief into which their initiate led our student. Perform well and your dedication will be rewarded."

Solona's head was swimming. "Yes, First Enchanter."

Could she do this? Jowan would see through a lie. But she had to try, didn't she? If Irving would reconsider after she did as he asked...

 _'Perhaps if I get them to return peacefully, or if the templars see with their own eyes that Jowan doesn't resort to blood magic..._ ' It was a shred of a chance, but she had to take it.

' _For Jowan_ ,' she thought, strengthening her resolve.

She walked to the stockroom with leaden feet. When Owain asked what she required, she shuddered. He was as flat and lifeless as Jowan had described. It had never bothered her before, but now...

"What is it like... to be tranquil?" she asked, before she let herself consider why.

Owain's responses were positive. They might even have been reassuring, but every time she pictured Jowan--stupid, brave, whiney, impulsive Jowan--never smiling again, never pouting at her over porridge, she had to blink mist from her eyes.

' _It will work,_ ' she vowed. ' _It will work and they will stop this. They have to._ '

Her heart was thudding in her ears when she returned to Jowan. She knew her skin was clammy and blotched, her sentences stilted and false. She wasn't even sure which words she said. It was a moment to be grateful for Lily's presence. Jowan was so wrapped up in her, he scarcely spared Solona a glance.

She followed them through the basement corridors to the repository in a haze. Per Irving's instructions, she attempted to use the rod of fire on the door. As expected, it was futile.

"Maybe it's broken," she croaked. But they paid no heed. They met every obstacle with determination, always finding an alternate path to proceed. In this case, another door, out of the way and to the wrong room entirely, yet still a hair closer to their goal.

They wandered down corridors of stone, through countless doors of heavy wood and iron. Time and time again she urged them, "Let's just go back," but they could not be dissuaded.

They fought past enchanted suits of armor, she couldn't remember how many. She stood helpless watching as Lily charged ahead and Jowan stood toe to toe with the tower's defenders.

She closed her eyes and drew upon her numbness to cast ice that slowed the blades. It was the best she could do. Not even the gleam of steel could cut through her stupor.

The only room to draw her attention was a small dungeon, littered with piles of dirty cloth. Would Jowan be sent here? Would she? ' _At least this might mean Anders is free_ ,' she thought.

As they moved through the rooms, she silently passed Jowan anything she found. Coins, cowls, anything that could be useful. ' _Perhaps... Perhaps if this doesn't work he could still make it out,_ ' she thought.

The farther they delved, the stronger the idea grew. When they reached the phylacteries and she watched Jowan crush the bottle, she knew that whatever Irving had promised, he would never be allowed to return unpunished.

"Jowan," she started. Her throat felt sticky and thick, and the words caught. "I must confess something.” If she looked at him she would cry.

"Now?" he asked, still moving towards the door. "Can't it wait til we're away from this tower?"

"No... I need to tell you." She forced herself to look at him through blurred lashes. "I- I told Irving what we were doing."

"You _what?_ " Jowan asked, whirling around. "Why? Why would you do that?"

"I don't know," she whispered. "I thought it would help. It was stupid, I'm sorry."

The tears were falling fast now, but she made no move to dry them.

"Why?!" he shouted. "Why are you even here? Why did you lie and say you would help us?"

She shook her head. "He wanted proof? I thought maybe... Maybe if I could convince you to drop the plan, or show him that we didn't use any blood magic, that it would give you a chance."

Jowan was screaming. "Do you know what they'll do to Lily if they catch her? I would rather I die and leave her unharmed!"

"Jowan, we should go," Lily broke in. "We can still get away."

"Th-they're waiting," Solona said, finally wiping her face. "But there still might b-be a chance. You could still try..."

"Don't talk to me!" Jowan swore. "Leave us alone. You've done enough!"

The two dashed out of the room, and Solona trailed behind like a ghost in their wake.

She left the basement in time to hear Knight Commander Greagoir's condemnation.

"An initiate, conspiring with a blood mage. I'm disappointed, Lily," he said. "She seems shocked, but fully in control of her own mind. Not a thrall of the blood mage, then. You were right, Irving. The initiate has betrayed us. The Chantry will not let this go unpunished."

He turned to Solona. "And here's your lackey, who so efficiently delivered these miscreants into our hands. Your plan worked, after all."

She stared into the Knight Commander's eyes. ' _This is your fault,_ ' she thought. She hoped he could read it in her face.

As the templars moved towards them, Lily stepped backwards saying, "The... the mages' prison. No... please, no. Not there!"

"No!" Jowan shouted, "I won't let you touch her!"

Before Solona could blink he'd plunged a knife into his palm and cast a spell so powerful it knocked nearly everyone to the ground. Solona lay on the stone, stunned, tears slipping out of her closed lids.

' _No,_ ' she thought.

She didn't want to know, but Lily said it anyway.

"By the Maker... _blood magic_! H-how could you? You said you never..." the girl faltered.

"I admit, I... I dabbled! I thought it would make me a better mage!"

"Blood magic is evil, Jowan. It corrupts people... changes them..."

"I'm going to give it up." he begged. "All magic. I just want to be with you, Lily. Please, come with me..."

' _He's delusional,_ ' Solona thought. ' _Or lying..._ ' A sob caught in her chest.

"I trusted you." Lily cried. "I was ready to sacrifice everything for you... I... I don't know who you are, blood mage. Stay away from me..."

A pair of footsteps turned and fled. His spell broken, the fallen began to crawl up from the floor.

Irving grasped her elbow, hauling her to her feet. "Are you all right? Where's Greagoir?"

The Knight Commander was already up surveying the scene. "I knew it... blood magic. But to overcome so many... I never thought him capable of such power..."

Solona swayed wordlessly. Was she still crying? She didn't know.

Irving squeezed her arm. "None of us expected this. Are you all right, Greagoir?"

"As good as can be expected given the circumstances! If you had let me act sooner, this would not have happened!" the Knight Commander shouted. "Now we have a blood mage on the loose and no way to track him down!"

He stalked towards the doorway. "Where is the girl?"

Lily emerged from a corner. "I... I am here, ser.”.

"You helped a blood mage! Look at all he's hurt!" Greagoir shouted.

"Lily didn't know!" Solona croaked, taking a step towards the angry templar and the initiate.

"Save your breath," the girl said. "I can speak for myself."

"Knight-Commander... I... I was wrong. I was accomplice to a... a blood mage. I will accept whatever punishment you see fit. Even... even Aeonar."

In that moment Solona had only admiration for the girl.

Greagoir turned to Solona, "And you. You were in a repository full of magics that are locked away for a reason. Did you take anything?"

"He has a staff," she whispered.

"Are we to add thievery to your list of misdemeanors then?" Irving grumbled behind her.

"Your antics have made a mockery of this Circle!" Greagoir said, stalking towards her. "What are we to do with you?"

Irving’s voice was steady. "As I said, she was working under my orders."

"And this improves the situation? The phylactery chamber is forbidden to all save you and me! You're not all-knowing, Irving! You don't know how much influence the blood mage might have had. How are we to deal with this?"

"Knight-Commander, if I may... I am not only looking for mages to join the king's army. I am also recruiting for the Grey Wardens." A voice came from the entryway.

Solona turned to see the Warden striding towards the armored templar. Maker, had she only seen him this morning? It felt like weeks ago.

The man continued, "Irving spoke highly of this mage, and I would like her to join the Warden ranks."

What? She turned to the First Enchanter, but Greagoir was already shouting.

"You've promised him a new Grey Warden?"

Irving nodded and stroked his beard. "She has served the Circle well. She would make an excellent Grey Warden."

Solona shook her head, unable to make a sound, but no one paid her any mind.

The strange man nodded. "We look for dedication in our recruits. Fighting the darkspawn requires such dedication, often at the expense of all else."

To her surprise, it was Greagoir that jumped in to save her from such a fate. "I object. You say she operated under your instructions, Irving, but I do not trust her. I must investigate this issue, and I will not release this mage to the Grey Warden."

For the first time the men turned to her.

She struggled to find a response. "I am a mage." Her voice cracked. "My place is here in the Circle."

Irving shook his head. "No, child. This tower is not the place for you. You have... a truly rare gift that should not be squandered. Your time is just beginning. The Grey Wardens offer a chance for something more. Take it."

The Warden spoke of the war, the need for mages.

' _This can't be right. I can barely cast dispel, what use would I be in a battle?_ ' The beginnings of panic were swelling in her chest.

"Am I to leave the circle forever?" she asked the room, her voice too high and too tight. What use was poise, these men cared nothing for her. She was the silent fourth point of a triangle.

"The Circle never forgets its apprentices, but the Grey Wardens shall be your family now," Irving said.

Solona bit her lips to keep from crying out like a child mid-tantrum. ' _No!_ ' she wanted to scream. ' _I will not go. You cannot make me!_ '

But of course, they could make her, and apparently, they would.

If more words were said, she didn't hear them. The Warden walked with her to her quarters. "Fear not. You will carve out your own place in this world," he said. He probably thought he was comforting.

Solona first stopped at the apprentice dorm. The light streamed through the windows. ' _Can it only be midday?_ '

Were it not for the armored man standing at the door, she might have crawled into bed and closed her eyes, praying it had all been some sickening nightmare.

She realized she had very little to gather. Nearly everything she had was considered property of the Chantry. She looked over the things that had once made up her world, her bunk, her winter blanket, her hairbrush. Each piece had thirty identical copies strewn throughout the room. Each one would be redistributed to some mage she would never know the name of, and no one would remember that they had been hers. In the end she grabbed her notes from her training courses, a single pressed petal from her favorite bush in the greenhouse, and a half crumpled list of astronomy titles.

She stopped at the doorway. "Can I… Can I say goodbye?" she asked.

"Greagoir would not take kindly to such a commotion," the Warden considered, then softened. "But perhaps to a select few."

Solona nodded, and turned her leaden feet up the stairs. Dimly she realized that these might be the last minutes in her home. She touched everything she passed, dragging her feet over the familiar cracks in the stone.

She stopped midway past the chantry to ask a templar, "Have you seen Senior Enchanter Sweeney?"

"I'm afraid not," the man replied, "but he's scheduled for time in the enchanter's library."

She forgot to say thank you. Did it matter now? She climbed the spiral stairs, scratching her nails into the stone. She prayed they'd leave a mark. Something tiny she could leave behind to tell the universe, ' _I was here_ ,' before she was taken away.

She found Sweeney in an armchair nodding over a scroll.

"Ah, there you are girl!" His smile was lit up by a sunbeam. "Come to say thank you? I suppose I can't take full credit for your success, although I may want to." He winked.

"I…" She couldn't finish the thought.

"Your pupil has been granted the honor of joining the Grey Wardens," the stranger supplied for her.

"The Wardens eh? An honor indeed," Sweeney said, leaning out of the light and squinting at her.

She couldn't even fake a smile for him.

Sweeney stood up from his chair. As always, standing beside him made her feel like she was three feet tall. He tugged her braid gently.

"Leaving us are you? Good for you. It's a better fate than any I could have hoped for. The Wardens should be so lucky to bag one of old Sweeney's apprentices."

Though she tried to keep her shoulders steady, her chin started quivering. Her mind said what her mouth couldn't, ' _Oh Maker, I'll miss you._ '

Sweeney blinked three times, and squeezed her shoulder hard once. "You work hard out there," he rasped. "I don't want to hear anything about you skirting chores or being lazy. You're carrying all of Kinloch with you, you know."

"Yes, Senior Enchanter.”.

"That's my girl," the old mage said, his eyes too bright.

Solona smiled, then crumpled into tears.

"Oh, none of that now. Chin up!" Sweeney barked.

Solona sniffed and nodded, straightening her shoulders. She met his gaze with wet eyes.

"Take care of this one, you hear?" he said to the Warden, his voice cracking. "Now be off with you. You'll need to eat before you go, and second lunch is nearly done."

He clapped her on the shoulder. "The next time I see you, I want to hear that you've usurped the Warden Commander," he crowed,and pushed her towards the door.

She was stepping into the row boat ready to ferry her away from the dock when she realized that she still hadn't said 'thank you.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was too busy & angsty to squeeze in any sneaky jokes. Bonus points to everyone for reading anyway <3 
> 
> Thank you all for reading and kudosing and commenting!!! <3 <3 <3  
> This is the official last chapter of Any Given Wednesday, Chapter 6 is a bonus epilogue. I hope you all enjoy, thank you for all of your support!!! <3


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen's response

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, beta'd by my darling beautiful intelligent [EllsterSMASH](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllsterSMASH) who is so darn smart with terrific instincts <3 I'm so lucky to have you!

The Spoiled Princess was unusually loud for a Thursday afternoon.

"Hey Fels," Evan shouted, breaking through the din. "Bring one last round for the road, won't you?"

"Put your gold on the table and you can have whatever you want," the dwarven barmaid said with a wink, and deftly scooped the emptied tankards from the table.

"You in, Cullen?" Evan called.

"I'll pass." Cullen chuckled. "Someone has to make sure you sorry louts don't drown on the way over."

"Good man, good man." Evan clapped him on the shoulder. "Say, one of these nights we'll let you be the drunk one and you can finally give one of these shield girls a go, eh?"

"Nah mate, you don't want that," Mark shouted from down the table. "It's already hard enough to get him to shut up about his little mage girl. Give him five ales and he'll be five times worse."

Cullen's protests were drowned out by a series of guffaws.

Reaching from his right, Greg ruffled his hair. "Come on now Cul, we're only joking. It's _inappropriate_ , we understand, lad. We all keep a sharp watch on duty. Can't help it if a cute girl just happens to be in that same look-around and we drop all our cutlery!"

Cullen batted him away, grinning through a flush. "Shove off."

"You're one to talk, Mark,” he yelled over the table. “When are you going to do something more than stare at Mira, huh? If I have to hear her sigh when you walk past the bar one more time, one of us might have to do the job for you!"

A chorus of hoots and jeers followed his words. "And it'll be a long line!" Kevin yelled from the corner seat.

"Sod off," Mark called back. "You all should have heard him yesterday in the hallway." He raised his pitch to a mocking note, "'I was looking at the stars and thinking about you last night.' Thinking about what, eh Cullen? Give me three guesses, I bet I'll get it."

The table erupted into laughter, Cullen included. He raised his near-empty beer to Mark, who bowed over the table with a flourish.

He couldn't fault Mark's interpretation there, he had sounded _particularly_ stupid that morning. And really, it wasn't wrong to appreciate her. She was smart, and kind, and brave, and beautiful, and surprisingly funny. Was he supposed to not notice?  

' _Cullen would never_ ,' her voice echoed in his head. He'd first heard it years ago when her friend had started alluding to less than proper intentions on his part. Even now he didn't know how to feel about it. Was he honored that she had so much faith in him or ashamed that a tiny immutable part of him insisted she was wrong?

He sighed. Of course he would never, but that didn't mean he didn't occasionally wish that wasn't true.

What had Ser Dras said last night? "This isn't a reprimand; it's an honor and it's a declaration of faith. Striking the killing blow is a grave responsibility. It means life or death for your brothers. The fact that you've been chosen, well it means Greagoir's staking his life on his faith in your ability to follow through. Take pride in that."

And he _was_ proud. Proud to wear the armor, proud to stand with his brothers and protect their charges. Proud that she and the Knight Commander had such faith in him.

But it hadn't stopped his palms from sweating or his stomach from plummeting when he saw her fall to the ground. And this morning when she'd asked him… Of course, of course he would have done it.

He stared at the dregs of his empty mug. It hadn't stopped the swooping relief he felt when the morning light turned her eyes into slate flecked tidepools either.

' _Maker's breath_.' He snorted and put the beer down. He'd clearly had enough for now.

Two last rounds later, six templars left the bar. Louis had sworn up and down that he'd take the early ferry and be back for the noon roster. He had a standing date with one of the girls, so they let it slide.

Cullen blinked as the rays of late afternoon light pierced his tired eyes. When the spots cleared, he registered a girl walking towards them from the docks. He was moving before he consciously knew it was her.

Something was wrong. He knew even before he saw Solona's face. In retrospect it should have been the fact that she was out of the tower that tipped him off, but it was something in her stance. She stood like she'd been hollowed out, like an empty cocoon, like if you blew on her she'd collapse into dust.

"Halt," he instructed the man walking beside her. "What's going on here?"

"Excuse us, Ser. This mage has been recruited into the Grey Wardens. We voyage to Ostagar," the man said. Cullen spared him a quick glance to confirm that he was, in fact, the Grey Warden that had been visiting the tower, before his attention was totally consumed by _her_.

She was pale, more than usual in the bright sunlight. She lifted her eyes to him slowly and he took a half-step closer.

"Apprentice," he said. She'd been crying. Tears he'd seen before, but this... She opened her mouth but no words came out. Could she have been drugged?

"What happened?" he demanded, turning to the Warden.

"I'm sure there will be a debrief once your party returns to the tower," the man said smoothly.

A debrief? For what? Had Solona been involved??

"Jowan." The word was paper-thin, not even a whisper. New tears dripped down her face but she didn't seem to notice them.

' _She's in shock,_ ' he realized. Cullen's hackles rose. He'd just opened his mouth to insist that the Warden drop this nonsense and let him take her back to the healers wing when she spoke again.

"I'm sorry," she said, her eyes finally focusing on him. "Irving says I have to go."

"What?" he said, finally processing the Warden's initial statement. "Are you coming back?"

Solona turned to the Warden, her dull eyes flickering to life for the first time. Cullen followed the motion, searching the stranger's face for some inkling of his fate.

The man inclined his head and spoke gently to her. "While we may not always have need of your services, the Grey Wardens keep our holdings in Weisshaupt."

"Oh," they both breathed. He found her eyes again.

The Warden coughed. "The day grows short, I'm afraid, and we have a long journey ahead of us."

"I- oh. Of course." Cullen clenched his fists, but stepped out of their path.

"Goodbye," Solona said, and walked away from him towards the hill. _Goodbye_ , just like that.

Maker, something was tearing out of his chest.

"Wait!" he called, jogging up to them. She turned, the tiny spark still alight in her eyes.

"I…" he faltered. "Is there anything you need? Did you speak with Senior Enchanter Sweeney?"

"We're quite all right, thank you," the Warden replied, but Cullen was watching Solona.

She nodded, and tried to smile. "I-I'll be okay," she said, but her voice caught. "Thank you, Cullen."

He offered her a final salute. "You'll do the Wardens proud, Apprentice."

He stood watch as the pair walked up the hill. Solona looked so small against the sky. ' _Andraste, keep her safe,_ ' he prayed.

"What was all that about?" Evan asked, coming up behind him with the rest.

"She's leaving,” he said. “For good." His voice was hollow in his ears.   

No one said anything, but all five of them kept watch at his shoulder until she passed over the horizon and out of his sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading this!! I can't believe I officially finished the first part! This is the first story I ever actually started writing so thank you EVERYONE who kudoses or comments <3 Y'all are angels who make my life 
> 
> Part 2: Mage, Interrupted will hopefully be posted within the next 4-5 weeks. I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Note: The current part 2: A Dance is just a little scene scribble that will fit into the universe at some point much much much later. Sorry for any confusion & I hope you like it anyway! :)


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